tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-359915692024-03-07T15:24:34.601-08:00The Stump family...a window into our worldanghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-59538591816240810682022-09-28T19:54:00.005-07:002022-09-29T10:11:45.410-07:00Six months<span id="docs-internal-guid-3ff0c7ea-7fff-8e71-c8dd-6bb4a7df8cd1"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Does anyone even post on a blog anymore? It’s been 9 years since I last posted anything here, but after I started writing, it just seemed like too many words for social media.</span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Actually, there really aren’t too many words at all that could accurately express what I want to say. But I’ve realized writing is an important, albeit excruciating, way for me to really process what’s in my head and on my heart. So, like with the beginning of my last post 9 years ago, I’ll warn you that this is bound to be long. There may be extra words I could have edited out, details in here that won’t matter to you, but that’s ok, they matter to me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today marks 6 months since my mom died. This loss has affected me in profound ways, and in ways I know I still have yet to discover. But today I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about my mom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t have a great memory, but the first memory I can recall vividly was from when I was very young. I was sitting on my mom’s lap with my head resting on her chest. As I listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat and the sounds of her breathing, I felt totally peaceful and content. I was just about to drift to sleep when suddenly, Mom starts screaming and yelling. I was instantly terrified and started to cry. Quickly, she pulled me close and said, ”Oh honey, it’s ok, mommy’s ok, mommy’s just really excited about this football game!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 11pt; margin-right: 11pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin: 0pt 11pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 208px; overflow: hidden; width: 320px;"><img height="208" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/LCk_8_xc5ZIIDqJ-HOFndpgsSkP4fKuXrLzguKxaxnbu7xIt3SVAehjuAyK7mli6m299S6uZxBIKCfbC_gcksc1Sl1kgOSqFOGjY1sY3iO0BtVBUy8tVn1csTIyLL2LpH7NpfM912k8niE3GUr-7UuPGQoxz55l970tCVfj2SOXzi3a3p_N5_oOgQQ" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="320" /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And that, in a nutshell, was my mom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She had this way of making everyone feel comfortable and at ease around her, and at the same time, everyone knew not to stand in the way of her passion for life and the things she loved!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She was the fun mom, the one that all my friends loved and wanted to be around. She was a teacher assistant one day a week at our school from kindergarten to 8th grade, and all my classmates thought she was the best. Any weeks she wasn’t able to come, I’d hear moaning about how much everyone would miss her, and how no TA was more fun at recess than Mrs. Alcorn.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She made our house a place we all wanted to be. She may have thought it was the pizza rolls and Nutter Butter’s that kept our friends wanting to come over, but I know that it was because my mom created a home where everyone knew there would be both a lot of love and a lot of laughter.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was SO much laughter! I remember laughing til my sides ached the first time I read some old Reader’s Digest magazines to my mom at the family beach house in Manzanita (which quickly became a tradition.) You may be thinking I’m talking about the sections that included family friendly jokes and clever anecdotes. Now, I did read those, and we’d chuckle a bit. But the real belly laughs were reserved for the times I read her Drama in Real Life. I’d put on my best dramatic voice, and read such things as people who crawled miles to safety after a grizzly bear mauling, or the harrowing tale of a shipwreck turned shark attack. It sounds so awful that we would laugh at these things, but all of these were survival stories, so we weren’t laughing at people actually dying, just NEAR death experiences that were written using the most intensely dramatic words possible. The tales that seemingly couldn’t possibly get worse, but ALWAYS did. There was the “lost in the rainforest” story where this guy was starving and needing to eat bugs, then there was a flash flood but finally he barely pulled himself out of the water, climbing up on a tree branch. But wait, there’s more…we were snorting by the time the fire ants arrived. Dad and Karina would be over in the corner discussing philosophy and theology and we were rolling on the floor laughing at the detailed description of each piece of flesh punctured by the grizzly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 11pt; margin-right: 11pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin: 0pt 11pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 320px; overflow: hidden; width: 213px;"><img height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/xITD6CdOsIEpVQNLM1C1UElPi5csGoofAoyTQnWS61GDxBUgxQSMZYF91JrBZigLQHdiuH8P46RmMC9ewJUpOQlbDXEXq8iMjaLLxd8_IyBV05Vc_nAlxZqWdmIv1vhjxtJ-LBoAUFCfGTY3aboOPnuFMVpPnJowSFNaegc6mwD1IOCV6H0NMskYzA" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="213" /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The beach house also reminds me of birthday trips. For many years in a row, my mom would let me pick a few friends and she (and sometimes one of her friends) would drive us to Manzanita for a birthday weekend. We’d roast hot dogs and s’mores on the beach and watch movies and go to Seaside. My mom was always a part of the fun, even during my potentially angsty middle school and high school years, and I always wanted her to be.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not only was my mom the fun mom, I also remember serious conversations that were packed with godly wisdom. I remember many of them taking place either in the car, or walking around the middle school track. But sometimes, the best conversations would just happen randomly. I’d just plop down on the couch with her after school, or come in the kitchen and help her make dinner. She taught me so many things without me even knowing it.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I really never remember a time that I felt like my mom wasn’t there. Even in my adult years. We weren’t the mother-daughter pair that talked daily on the phone after I left the house…in fact, I joke with people that we lived less than a mile apart for the last 14 years, and sometimes we’d go for weeks without saying a word to each other! But that was because I knew without a doubt that she was there whenever I needed her. It was both spoken and unspoken that I could always count on her to be present in my life.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mom and I were different in some ways, but similar in more. We both wanted to be easygoing and never a burden to those around us. We didn’t want to be needy, we wanted to be strong and capable and we don’t like to cry in front of others (though that’s out the window for me these days.) We would often exchange looks and instantly know what the other was thinking. We understood each other in a very special way, and that made me feel like I could tell her anything at any time without any caveats. I miss that more than I can describe. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the last few years, as often happens with parents and children, our roles slowly started to reverse. I had a lot of medical problems as a teenager, and had to have several surgeries. Stopping to write these things down, it’s pretty remarkable to look back: My mom went to countless doctors appointments with me, sat in the ER with me several times, and even after I was married, got a few phone calls from me that held difficult news about my health. She helped me get out of bed after surgeries and brought me my favorite things without me even asking.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the greatest privileges of my life is that I was able to take care of my mom in her last few years, the last month of her life especially. It was my turn to take her to doctors appointments. I was the one on the receiving end of several difficult phone calls. I sat by her bedside while she was on the ER stretcher. I came to visit her while she was admitted to the hospital. I went to the grocery store to get her what she needed, and also splurged on her favorites. At the end, I was able to do for her for 3 weeks what she did for me my whole childhood. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 11pt; margin-right: 11pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin: 0pt 11pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 212px; overflow: hidden; width: 320px;"><img height="212" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/Uhf_0XlGQggJjVUk6NQ8fVumuyoLiprDTgFPoElTrbR8VoLlesi2VxFfbEfZz4GpuMe__5RbUYQvACzG-qPCGHmloMYPX3VZJS3dP5SLdv4uwRsAnI-Bn7wrNRQWERUsly3202vGV2LaTFI9ATBx-z62rtBrpHUVBAeMlDnN7f3zPbnj_SJAG8-YSA" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="320" /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have realized that many moments–both big and small–in my life led me to become the person my mom needed me to be in those last moments we shared. For that, I will forever be grateful to God. As a nurse, I helped interpret the words of the doctors, and as a daughter who resonated with her personality, I was able to express them in a way that she understood. Having been a patient, I knew firsthand her reluctance to ask for help, especially from those closest to her. My training as a nurse and my experience working in critical care prepared me for such a time as this.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Right before I made the decision to call 911, 3 ½ weeks before she died, I knelt down next to her and said I knew she didn’t want for me to have to take care of her at the end of her life. But then I told her that not only was I willing to do that, it would be an honor and a privilege. She looked at me and said, “Are you sure?” and I said, “Absolutely.” And then she took a slow breath and said. “Ok. Thank you.” And I knew she knew the end was closer than any of the rest of us realized.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am so grateful that in all my years of experience as a nurse, with all of the different tasks I’ve done for each of the patients I have taken care of, God was preparing me to be able to give the most important patient of my life the very best care I could give. And every day as I was taking care of her, I also made her laugh, which was important to us both. Her allowing me to care for her until the very end was her greatest gift to me and I am so so so thankful. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I miss so many things about my mom. I miss her laugh, and the twinkle in her eye that she had til the very end. Her facial expressions that ensured she’d never be a good poker player. Her whistle I could hear from blocks away that told me it was time to come home for dinner--the same whistle used years later to cheer on my boys at their sporting events. The silly songs she’d make up and sing about her dogs. Her wise words in quiet moments. The pictures of her toes in the sand that she’d send me from Maui. The weeks that would go by without even a phone call, but the knowledge that I could stop by and see her at a moments notice anytime I wanted. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 11pt; margin-right: 11pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin: 0pt 11pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 320px; overflow: hidden; width: 240px;"><img height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/kNiexDxfUAauJRKbLmF49Y2n75ytpM0ncJPHwZ-XLJkjvvNI2NAwNxAsHkBIRoo9Ll77xC5lUwK9vgrwe3B0-S4fnI6zdi-TXO9rIcPEvXWAncft-b1MDG12XfCydMC8SpuXBqwHWd1laNzCg5o_W2xtVsE25DTJ6Mbz43nzGMSWtJYQd2hOxa9Unw" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="240" /></span></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am so very grateful it’s not the end of our relationship, but only a brief interruption. And I can’t wait for an eternity of laughter reminiscing about both others’ and our own Dramas in Real Life, and being able to lay close to my mama again, listening to the comforting sound of her fully healed lungs breathing in the purest air on the new earth. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ And he who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new.’” Revelation 21: 3-6</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Until that day, this stone with my mom's handwriting on it (a precious gift from Dan's co-workers) reminds me that God is my strength. He will be faithful to guide me through these deep valleys of grief and remind me of the joy that awaits me someday soon. The fullness of joy that my mom is experiencing right now.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOivpF0uyBP4Wn61H1YxFoaDFfgP_wZZZofS_8FaDMhi_l4zOKJD9DjpCzwz-ZqD1WmBdqm_LalxX6YO1gkFb5rY_W1jGtsE-xGoBoFbfE3xhpoRxhHUqYZaSLNpJBaBblX-cx5rGSTaRMxE_J9hX0TzST3mPj-c-Hz02sWjJ2FMxYECCGjic/s3022/IMG-2795%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2652" data-original-width="3022" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOivpF0uyBP4Wn61H1YxFoaDFfgP_wZZZofS_8FaDMhi_l4zOKJD9DjpCzwz-ZqD1WmBdqm_LalxX6YO1gkFb5rY_W1jGtsE-xGoBoFbfE3xhpoRxhHUqYZaSLNpJBaBblX-cx5rGSTaRMxE_J9hX0TzST3mPj-c-Hz02sWjJ2FMxYECCGjic/s320/IMG-2795%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span>I love you mama, and I can't wait to share forever with you. I can almost hear you whistling me home.<span><br /></span>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-21849614281946460062013-03-28T19:38:00.000-07:002014-06-12T19:46:24.813-07:00The bombshell, part 3<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">*You're going to want
to read parts 1 and 2 before this final installment if you haven't
already...otherwise you'll be quite confused! OH, and if you faint when you see
blood from a paper cut, you're going to want to close your eyes when you get to
the pictures.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<br />
I'm not going to pretend I always had a
"glass-half-full" kind of attitude about this whole thing. It took me
crying out to God like Job and David and so many others did and listening to
God's words through the Bible and to wise people like my husband and my family
and my friends. But when I wrote this paragraph on Facebook, nine excruciatingly
long days and sleepless nights after that life-changing phone call, I meant it
entirely, with my whole heart:<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surgery is scheduled for June 14, with a
pre-op appointment on June 12 which also happens to be my birthday. You can
continue to pray with me that the surgery will be effective and that the tumor
will not even be malignant or that it has not spread throughout my body. But in
all honesty, my biggest prayer is for whatever needs to happen for me to love
Jesus more and bring more glory to His name. If I "beat" this but
lose that focus, in the long run I will have lost.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<br />
People were so amazing to our family during the twenty days
of waiting before my surgery. I got a gift certificate for a massage, had a pre-op pedicure, and had many letters, notes and immense amounts of prayer. I had a few girls nights, including one
where my tumor got a name: Jezebel. Jezzy and I had some great laughs and a few
tears with some wonderful friends and family. A group of girls who have
done a Bible study with me for years and years threw me a little pre-birthday,
pre-pre-op celebration with chocolate fondue and chocolate wine. God, thank you
for my sweet friends.<br />
<br />
June 12 was my birthday. Dan and I mapped out an entire day in
downtown <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Portland</st1:place></st1:city>
all scheduled around my pre-op appointment. We went to Pine State Biscuits,
Stumptown Coffee, spent some birthday money at <st1:placename w:st="on">Lloyd</st1:placename>
<st1:placename w:st="on">Center</st1:placename> mall, rode the MAX to VooDoo
Doughnuts and Powell's bookstore and took the street car to OHSU's tram where
we got an aerial view of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Portland</st1:place></st1:city>
on our way to the surgeon's office up on the hill. Instead of presents, I got a
thorough check up, including that proud moment of stepping on a scale after a
breakfast of carbohydrates with a side of sugar. I also got my blood pressure taken (not
sure the doughnuts and coffee were the best way to keep that down either, but a
happy-birthday-to-me-and-my-hypertension, thank you very much). Instead of
blowing out birthday candles I got blood drawn. Then instead of listening to
the Happy Birthday song, I listened to a very frank physician assistant tell me
that I just needed to sign a consent form saying I knew the surgical risks
(adverse reactions from anesthesia, risk of massive blood loss, temporary
and/or permanent paralysis--either from the waist down or from the neck down,
and the risk of stroke and finally death.) <br />
<br />
Eating another bite of the bacon
maple bar that I'd wrapped in a napkin and stuck in my purse made me feel a bit
better. See? Bacon. I did have protein for breakfast. Take that, you clearly
inaccurate scale.<br />
<br />
After the appointment we went to a movie. I honestly can't
remember which one, not just due to the fact that I was distracted thinking
about stroking out on the OR table in 2 days, but because typically I don't
ever remember any movie that I've ever seen. I'm actually mostly serious. Dan
is constantly reminding me where and when and how many times I've seen a movie
when I'm swearing on my life that I've never seen it before. <br />
<br />
After the movie we headed to dinner at Mother's Bistro. It was
good, but I was ready to go home, kiss my boys, and attempt to sleep. It was a
good birthday. It could have really bombed. But it didn't. God thank you for my husband; the person who knew what I
needed that day and made it happen for me.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
June 13th was a bit of a blur. I remember trying to have the
house clean because I didn't anticipate much ability and/or desire to be
scrubbing toilets in the near future. Then I went to a Bible study in the
evening for our women's ministry at church. Again, I don't remember a lot of
it, but I do remember being encouraged and being prayed for. God thank you for
my amazing church.</div>
<br />
June 14th was not only the day my surgery was scheduled, but
it was the last day of school for my boys and also Ty's kindergarten
graduation. Honestly I felt pretty horrible knowing that I wouldn't be there.
Both my parents and Dan's parents and sisters would be going to the ceremony
but I still knew that Ty would miss our faces in the crowd. He is my sensitive
one. The one who, a few days after my "diagnosis" he called me from
his school classroom asking me to come pick him up because he didn't feel well.
When I walked in the classroom his teacher mouthed to me "I think he's
okay." He looked like he was going to cry and came up and hugged me. And
then when we walked to the car he started skipping and saying, "can we go
do something special?" If "special" means going to Fred Meyer to
pick up a few groceries, than, YES!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Seeing that toothless grin with the dimple on his left cheek...oh sweet
boy. We didn't go to <st1:place w:st="on">Disneyland</st1:place> but I made
sure that at least his lunch was extra special that day. <br />
<br />
Now Jake, on the other hand...not as sensitive. When I told
Ty they would probably have to shave part of my head for the surgery he looked
a little upset. He told Jake in a sober voice, and Jake started laughing,
"UGH, Mom, you're going to look SO ugly!" God knew I needed both a
sensitive soul and one that makes me laugh. Both of them have bits of each
quality but I love how different they are and how much they are constantly
learning from each other.<br />
<br />
Back to June 14. Before the boys left for school and before
Dan and I headed to the hospital to check in for surgery, our parents, and the
elders of our church and our pastor came over to pray with us. Holy cow. I was
already feeling not my most attractive after scrubbing my whole body twice with
hot pink Hibiclens (that made me smell more like a medicine cabinet than a
fresh tropical breeze) and not being able to put on deodorant, lotion, makeup, hair
products, or anything else that might possibly help a human being feel better
about themselves. I've said before that I'm not a pretty crier, but on the
morning of June 14th, I was pretty much hideous. But as much as I was a hot
mess on the outside, those prayers pierced right into my heart. I felt a peace
that I'd never experienced before. A peace that didn't make any sense. <br />
<br />
Dan and I took off for the hospital where my parents would
come after Ty's graduation. The boys were going to stay the day and night with
Dan's parents. I never did ask what they did, but I'm sure their grandparents
spoiled them rotten and made them feel as normal as possible. Have I mentioned
before how much my in-laws rule?<br />
<br />
We got to the hospital and were led to the pre-op area where
I put on my "beautiful sea-foam gown," got my IV placed and waited. I
watched some real life crime TV shows and tried not to look at the clock. The
surgery was supposed to start at 10:30 and I didn't leave the pre-op area til
more like 12:30. I kissed my husband, told the nurse anesthetist that sure, I'd
be happy to take something in my IV that would help relax me. I don't
remember even getting to the actual OR before I was sufficiently relaxed (or
drooling like an idiot and saying who-knows-what. Thank you, Versed, for entertaining medical staff all around the nation each and every day.) <br />
<br />
I woke up about 2 hours later as I expected, to a whole lot
of nausea and just generally feeling disgusting and not really knowing what was
going on. I ended up getting meds and acupuncture in my wrists to help relieve
the nausea. It eventually worked and I started waking up more and was able to
visit with my husband and my parents. I knew I could feel my toes and that my
neck wasn't in a c-collar so I knew I wasn't paralyzed and that they probably
didn't take any bone off my spine which was true. The surgeon said he took a
"fist full of tumor and muscle" and that the tumor wasn't the size of
a kiwi, it was more the size of a lemon. What is it with fruit and tumors? But
he was confident that he got all the margins and now we'd have to wait a few
days for the pathology report.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
When I was finally feeling better and was awake for more
than a few minutes at a time, I got really hungry. I did the typical chicken
broth, crackers, and 7-up until I conned the nurse into believing I really
could handle more. She ordered me a chicken Caesar salad and some
peach iced tea off the patient menu, and a granola bar for later. I know you don't care about the
details, but I remember it because the Caesar salad came with cherry tomatoes
on the side and I tried to eat them even though I hate them and then realized
how ridiculous it was that I felt like I had to eat at least a few. I just had
part of my head shaved and a lemon cut out of the back of my neck and I'm
worried about eating all my tomatoes so I don't appear rude or ungrateful. I
remember the peach iced tea because I had a really hard time swallowing
due to my dry throat and my missing neck muscles that aid in swallowing, so for each half a bite of food I had to wash it down with
10 gulps of tea. Again, you don't care, but I swear it was the best meal of my life. Besides those dumb tomatoes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I remember my nurses being wonderful and my stay in the
hospital being short. I really really wanted to go home to my family, and did
so much earlier than the doctor anticipated. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
**VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, POST-OP PICTURES COMING UP!**<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
**</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
These are really not that gross, but don't say I didn't warn you!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
**</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<br />
For all my fellow nurses, or anyone else who appreciates a good surgical incision and drain now and then: <br />
<br />
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-Q2ia_-kTdRkR6AmFgJWhg5Yopmo_iqnEz2tYl03c3lfTxV_t7cp9FdsR6AIcL8d4mBDUieoveTIiIxvoHrfP2654QRYPCwO7vwErmzVLVY3QIUWXn0RBGqdAF8sFvA_wV5_Qw/s1600/neck1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-Q2ia_-kTdRkR6AmFgJWhg5Yopmo_iqnEz2tYl03c3lfTxV_t7cp9FdsR6AIcL8d4mBDUieoveTIiIxvoHrfP2654QRYPCwO7vwErmzVLVY3QIUWXn0RBGqdAF8sFvA_wV5_Qw/s320/neck1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
You might not be able to see it, but there was a HUGE dent on the right side of the incision, right below the skull. That's where Jez was hanging out. I still have a dent there, but it's not as pronounced. Although now you can see and feel the right side of my 2nd cervical vertebrae quite nicely, just hanging out with no muscle above or below it. Especially when I bend my neck around. It's a bit gross.<br />
<br />
My trend-setting drain. You KNOW you want one. It was important for me to color coordinate with my body fluids:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZTDiqq3HEillu1dHDPVZrjRA38m_2dE_b61Q-_twg-TeQVohK98Qqadkw4Z4E2OxJZgX4AkTXCk6ZSQg2mQuuFO354TrIZ_i5PajMcGrE1NPz_iM9clYGVPwNsagk8nqcTAgww/s1600/neck.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZTDiqq3HEillu1dHDPVZrjRA38m_2dE_b61Q-_twg-TeQVohK98Qqadkw4Z4E2OxJZgX4AkTXCk6ZSQg2mQuuFO354TrIZ_i5PajMcGrE1NPz_iM9clYGVPwNsagk8nqcTAgww/s1600/neck.gif" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUagrLt4pjLOxFSfYmzWOYcD0eQKpPUP-Do6qTEd9jMZ01o82WseKK4yPcjEfknYzKi7ow5mC4WCcLy6rsTgDbioayD7ZfpN0PrDDi_0ComvxIJBgNIWvgEm1nl4Rkkcyrs4vbQ/s1600/neck1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUagrLt4pjLOxFSfYmzWOYcD0eQKpPUP-Do6qTEd9jMZ01o82WseKK4yPcjEfknYzKi7ow5mC4WCcLy6rsTgDbioayD7ZfpN0PrDDi_0ComvxIJBgNIWvgEm1nl4Rkkcyrs4vbQ/s320/neck1.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></div>
<br />
Recovery was painful but not horrible. Waiting for 6 days
after the surgery to get the pathology report could have been really horrible.
But I felt each and every prayer. I felt that peace again, knowing that
whatever was going to happen, God was going to be right there with me.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
God thank you for your truth.</div>
<br />
When you surround yourself with the truth, it starts to seep
in to your life. I've always hoped that I'd hang on to Jesus when the rubber
meets the road, but you don't really know until you're there. Let me tell you,
after 3 "inconclusive" biopsies, Jesus was the ONLY certain thing in
our lives for 20 days until I had my surgery and then 6 more until we got the
biopsy results. Here's what I wrote on Facebook on June 20 after I got the
phone call from my surgeon:<span class="usercontent"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="usercontent"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span></i></span><br />
<span class="usercontent"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Biopsy results are back...my
tumor is incredibly rare, but completely contained and most likely NOT cancer!
Some research calls it "a neoplasm of uncertain malignancy" but since
the surgeon got all the margins, no radiation or chemo is needed. It's called a
"nodular tenosynovial giant cell tumor" and my doc says he has only
seen one case like this but has NEVER even heard about it in the soft tissues
of the neck. He's planning to write a paper about me and my tumor :) We do have
to watch for re-occurrence in the future, but it looks like this chapter is
closed for now. Praise Jesus! Our faith has been strengthened, our love for
each other has grown. In ALL things I will give thanks to God who loves me and
died for me, not promising that THIS life would be perfect, but that the next
one would! Thank you dear friends for your prayers and love!</span></i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
What did I learn through this? When trials come--and they
will, that's a guarantee--we can either run from God or we can run to him.
Running from him will only leave us confused and bitter. Running to him gives
us clarity and peace. <br />
<br />
He's not hiding. If we seek him, we will find him. He's not
silent. He speaks to us through his people and through his Word:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span class="textphil-4-7">"</span><span class="textphil-4-6">Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by
prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.</span> <span class="textphil-4-7">And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7</span></div>
<br />
That peace that transcends all understanding? I know what
that feels like.<br />
<br />
Not because I thought everything was going to be okay, but
because I KNEW that everything would happen according to his purpose. He
brought me closer to Jesus so that I could follow his example and say with all
my heart those words that song on our iPod reminded me of the day I thought my
life was over, "Not my will but yours be done."<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
In the days and months that followed I struggled a lot with
some pain in my scalp. To this day, it's better, but I still can't brush my
hair like a normal person and if someone touches my head I pretty much want to
punch them in the face. But when I get frustrated with it, I choose to believe
the truth. My chronic pain, as stupid and irritating as it is, is a reminder of
God's faithfulness to me. It's not just a reminder that things could have been
a whole lot worse. It's a reminder that when things do get worse, he'll be
there.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
There it is. The summer of 2012. God used this experience to
sharpen me, to refine me, to strengthen me. He allowed me to know him in a way
I never had before. I pray I will always see him the way I saw him during those
moments.<br />
<br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">And I pray he will never let me forget how bright his
light shone in my darkness.</span></div>
anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-450723248195978502013-03-02T13:53:00.000-08:002013-03-02T16:22:03.338-08:00The bombshell, part 2<i>If you haven't yet read my previous post, you'll want to do that before reading this one. Unless you're one of those people who like to start reading a book smack dab in the middle of it, in which case, go for it. But don't say I didn't warn you. </i><br />
<br />
When I got home from my CT scan Dan and the boys weren't home yet. I walked around my house a bit, not sure what I was supposed to do. Then I heard the garage door open and Dan told the boys to pick a show to watch on TV because he and mom needed to talk. Holy moley did we need to talk.<br />
<br />
I remember bursting into tears again as he walked down the hall towards me. I hugged him tight and I thanked God for the strength I already could feel through that hug. We talked and cried together. He told
me he had once read an article by John Piper that he'd written after he was diagnosed
with prostate cancer. Dan had gone back to that article after he talked to me
on the phone and shared part of it with me as we both had tears streaming down our
faces. Powerful. <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/taste-see-articles/dont-waste-your-cancer" target="_blank">Read it</a> when you have the chance. <br />
<br />
I told him that I didn't want to say a word to anyone until after the
appointment with the specialist. Then we'd have more conclusive information to
share. My parents happened to be on vacation in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state>. I definitely did not want to ruin
that for them. And I couldn't tell anyone else without telling my parents. <br />
<br />
But Dan reminded me of the truth once again. Just because we don't tell
people doesn't mean we're not going through this. Don't we want as much prayer
and love and support as possible? <br />
<br />
Oh man. But telling more people means it's more real. But that's ridiculous, of course it doesn't.
It's not any less real because people don't know about it.<br />
<br />
Do I want love and support and especially prayers? That's a heck yes. But it
means some people are going to look at me with big eyes and pat my back and say
stupid things. Maybe. But it also means that the people I love are going to
hold me up and not let me wallow in my misery when I feel like giving up.<br />
<br />
So I gulped and grabbed my cell phone. Dan called his parents and I texted
my mom saying "Call me when you have a chance to talk." The phone
rang 30 seconds later. Before answering I knew this would be one of the most
difficult conversations I'd had in my life. Remember my first thought after
hearing my diagnosis? I'm SO glad it's not one of my kids. Well, I'm a kid. A
kid who had to give her parents news that will devastate them. Their child has
cancer and might very well die before they do.<br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p>I answered the phone and my mom sounded all cheery. I asked her if she
really did have a few minutes to talk. She said, "Yep, we're just here
shopping and walking around, you're not interrupting anything." And I
burst into tears, but I don't think she heard me. I was remembering when I'd
broken my arm in 6th grade in front of the whole school at recess. I'd been so
tough and had fought back the tears, but the moment I saw my mom and her
concerned face, I lost it. My mom who loves me more than life itself. Just like
I love my boys. <br />
<br />
I finally said, "Sorry, there's just something about a mom." She
said, "what'd you say?" I don't think it was just a bad connection, I
just think she didn't understand yet what I was about to tell her. (Though
maybe it was because through my tears my sentence was completely incoherent.) Either way I had to tell her. <br />
<br />
"WHAT? Oh Angela, WHAT? Randy, come here, Randy." And then she put
me on speaker phone and half of <st1:place w:st="on">Maui</st1:place> probably
thought we were all nuts. I don't remember a lot of that conversation either,
but I do remember my dad being heartbroken and still having his unshakable
perspective. His <a href="http://www.epm.org/blog/2012/May/29/cancer-comes-our-family"><span style="color: blue;">blog</span></a>
that he wrote shortly after that was not for show. It was for real. Not because
he's so amazing (though I think he is) but because the God he has followed so
closely for so many years is so amazing. <br />
<br />
My mom doesn't blog so much--or ever--but her firm foundation proved to be
such a deep encouragement to me as well. Wow, I love my parents. As they cried
with me they were still able to speak truth into my life.<br />
<br />
God is good even when we don't understand.<br />
<br />
I asked them to call my sister because I was just spent. I think Dan made
some other calls, but I was ready to curl up in a ball and sleep for a year.
But I couldn't because my shoulder still hurt so bad. <br />
<br />
Stupid shoulder. Stupid cancer.<br />
<br />
But even if I could have slept I still had another conversation I needed to
have. Dan and I decided to tell our boys (ages 6 and 7 1/2) exactly what was going
on. They could tell something was wrong, and I think it would have been cruel
of us to not tell them then and end up having to lay a bombshell down later. And
again, just because we don't tell them doesn't mean it's not happening.<br />
<br />
Dan did a great job trying to explain how serious this was, but that we were trusting that God was going to take care of all of us. He didn't tell them everything was going to be okay...because it easily might not have been. He told them I could even die because of this.<br />
<br />
The boys had mixed reactions. Jake tried to keep things upbeat by saying,
"well, that's okay Dad, because I think we'd still be okay just the 3 of
us boys, don't you think?" And I had to laugh because I know he was just
trying to stop me from crying. And Ty didn't say anything but he came and
snuggled with me later on the couch. The next morning he came into the family
room where I had been sleeping on the recliner for the last week due to my shoulder pain.
"Mom?" Yeah buddy? "Do you still have cancer today?" Knife
in the heart. Yep, I do, sorry honey.<br />
<br />
Dan had an elders retreat for our church that very next morning, and I
think that was completely God's perfect timing. I was still at home waiting for
the call from the doctor about the results from my CT, and whether the cancer
had spread to my bones. Dan had called me and told me Vergil, our pastor, wanted
him to share at church on Sunday. So much for not telling anyone! But I knew it
would turn out to be a great decision to not keep things to ourselves. Indeed
it was.<br />
<br />
Since it was going to come out by Sunday at church, I needed to tell a few
of my closest friends first. I called my friend Natalie who has NO idea what a
humongous blessing she was to me. She let me cry and made me laugh (after
getting permission..."Is it too early for a cancer joke?") Exactly
what I needed. She called a few of my other best girlfriends. And I sat down to
write an email. Here's what it said:<br />
<em></em><br />
<em>Hey friends :) I wish I could pick up the phone and call each of you
individually, but honestly I just can't! </em><i><br />
<br />
<em>I would like to ask you for your prayers for me and for our family. Most of
you know that I've been having some severe left shoulder pain. A neck MRI and a
shoulder MRI was ordered. I got a call yesterday from my doctor that said the
results of my neck MRI "are very concerning". It looks like I have a
mass at the base of my skull that is almost certainly cancer. </em><br />
<br />
<em>The hardest part is that I don't know at all what to expect at this point.
My doctor referred me to an ENT cancer specialist up at OHSU, and I'm his first
appointment after the holiday on Tuesday morning at 8:15. He will be able to
tell me what the treatment plan is and then I'll know more. He had me get a CT
scan yesterday afternoon to see if the tumor was just involved in the soft
tissue of my neck or if it went into the bone, and unfortunately the results
are not back yet. </em><br />
<br />
<em>On the one hand, this could just be a tumor he can remove with surgery and
that will be it and I'll be fine after a quick surgical recovery, or if it is
cancer that is involved in my bones that will get more tricky. I just won't
know until Tuesday, or possibly even after surgery what my life is going to
look like for the next few weeks and months.</em><br />
<br />
<em>One thing I do know is that God is good and He is in control. Another thing
I know is that my husband is amazing and regardless of the outcome we're
trusting that God will do something awesome through this! Thank you for your
prayers and I promise to keep you updated. </em><br />
<br />
<em>Sorry this bombshell had to come in an email, I wish I could have sat in
each of your living rooms to tell you in person. Love you all :)</em></i><br />
<br />
<em>Ang<o:p></o:p></em><br />
<br />
At around 2pm is when I got the call, almost exactly 24 hours after my scan.
I think I can confidently say that was the most surreal 24 hours I have ever
experienced. NO bone involvement. Praise Jesus! I still had no idea what to
expect, but at least this news couldn't be better. I called Dan at the elders
retreat to let him know. I came to the meeting later that day and our pastor
and his wife, and all the elders and wives prayed for me. Holy smokes was that
encouraging!<br />
<br />
And then there was Sunday. Honestly I was dreading it. It's nice to be
recognized...for things you've done well, but not because you have cancer. I
thought it was going to be more nods and pats and big sad eyes looking at me
with pity. Not helpful. But when I got to church a few people I had told came
up to me to tell me that they loved me and they were praying. That <em>was</em>
helpful. <br />
<br />
I walked in late so I didn't have to talk to anyone who didn't yet know and
pretend everything was okay. I was dreading the fact that when Dan got up to
share I'd be sitting by myself. (Vergil had told him that he could take as much
time as he wanted, and in fact to just take over the sermon that day.) But then
my sister-in-law Becca and my pastor's wife extraordinaire, also one of my
best friends, Kelsey sat right next to me on either side. That was definitely
helpful. <br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p>During the "fellowship time" when there's a 10 minute break before
the sermon where you can take your kids to Sunday school classes, I was
agonizing over having to talk to anyone who hadn't heard. I didn't want to be
fake. "Hi, how are you!" Good thanks, except I was just diagnosed
with cancer over the weekend, so that's kind of a bummer. Yeah, if that's not a
conversation killer...<br />
<br />
But instead I didn't even need to get up. I just sat there and a group of my
friends who I had sent the email to came up and sat around me. One friend
handed me her precious foster baby to hold, just a few weeks old. The warmth of
his sweet little body matched the warmth in my heart looking around at my
beautiful friends who just wanted to show me that they loved me. <br />
<em></em><br />
<em>That</em> was helpful indeed. <br />
<br />
And then my husband got up in front of the church and made me so proud I
thought I would burst. I love that man so very much. You can listen to his
message <a href="http://www.greshambible.org/media.php?pageID=23"><span style="color: blue;">here</span></a> on
our church website looking under the date 5/27/12. The mixture of emotion and
truth in his words was powerful, to me and to our church. He quoted from Piper's article. Don't waste your
cancer. Don't waste ANY hard time in your life. Learn from it. Grow not only in spite of it, but because of it. God has a specific plan for each of us in every single trial we face.<br />
<br />
Truth. <br />
<br />
We drove up to OHSU two days later and it still felt like I was walking
through a fog. This doctor was about to tell me what my life would look like
for the next few weeks, months, and years...if I even had years. I remember feeling
so helpless. Being in the medical field, having connections? None of that
mattered. "Knowing a guy" who could pull strings for me wouldn't take
away the fact that I had a giant tumor growing in the back of my neck. There wasn't anything to do but wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="background: white;">
I still can't believe that I thought this doctor
would bring complete clarity to this chaos. Although I did instantly like him for his perfect mixture of kindness, humor and obvious expertise. He was the head of the ENT department at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the Northwest, and people drove for hours and even flew from all over the country to see him. Thank you Jesus that his office is 40 minutes from my house. But his expertise actually confused me even
more. And what a wonderful confusion it was...there was a chance this tumor
wasn't even cancer! He said he definitely understood why a radiologist
thought it was cancer, and that it still could easily be, but that there were a few<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"> other possibilities. He said words like nuchal fibroma and fibromatosis, both of which you can look up if
you're super curious. Gotta love wikipedia. </span><br />
</div>
<div style="background: white;">
</div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I have to be totally honest here and say that as relieved as I felt that I had a fighting chance, part of me felt guilty. We could have just spent our whole weekend making a "big deal" out of something that wasn't a big deal. I second guessed ever telling anyone that I was diagnosed with cancer. It might not be cancer. I was making everyone worry for no reason. I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. And I hate it when people are overly dramatic. Now all those people who really do have cancer might look at me and shake their heads because I was terrified for a few days but really never had to go through it. </span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
</div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">But with all these mixed emotions I kept reminding myself that I still didn't know what was going to happen, and that regardless of the outcome, this whole experience had already rocked my world. Even if it was the worst case scenario, there would always be a story more tragic than my own. No one has the monopoly on suffering. Maybe I won't have to suffer at all, or only just a little bit. But minimizing my fear or the impact this would have on my life would only minimize the story God was writing for me. </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
</div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">God doesn't write insignificant stories.</span></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">And cancer or not, this tumor had to be surgically
removed, and the doctor said that it was in a very tricky spot. He said the
tumor was about the size of a kiwi (turned out it was bigger) and it was
located directly below my skull on the right side of my neck. They had thought
it was on and possibly wrapped around the spine before the CT, which praise God
it was not, but it was still right next to the spine and frighteningly close to
the brainstem. Cancer was still a high probability and even if the biopsy
showed that the tumor was benign, that was still quite a scary place to do
surgery. He said he would want to have a neurologist scrubbed in and ready to
help if necessary. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I had 3 needle biopsies done in the office that day and
the initial results were inconclusive, so he had told me he would call me in a
few days to let me know if they were able to find out for sure what it is after
further testing. If they weren't able to get enough cells from the needle
biopsy they would need to do an incisional biopsy which has to be done in the
OR. He had said he would not remove the tumor until he knew exactly what he was
dealing with. If it was cancer, he'd have to try to remove all the margins
around it, making the surgery even more dangerous.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<span style="color: black;">The next few days were insanely long. But
this is what I wrote in a Facebook update on Thursday May 31:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I wish I would have known
that all I needed to do was get in the shower and my doctor would call :) I
would have done it much sooner! With a towel thrown around me, still dripping,
I heard the frustrating news that my needle biopsy was still inconclusive after
further testing. However, I did get the great news that my doctor is willing to
just go ahead and do the surgery and take this thing out. He gave me the option
of doing the surgical biopsy to find out for sure, or just have him do it and
be aggressive with the amount of muscle he takes out with the tumor. I told him
to go for it, take as much as he needs. I'm generous like that.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He told me that he would
probably have to take some of the muscle (the trapezius for those of you who
like details) regardless of if the tumor was benign or malignant, but that if
he didn't take enough of it to get all the margins of the potential malignancy,
he would have to go in and do it again and it would be much more complicated.
He said regardless of how much muscle he has to end up taking out, he doesn't
think I will have any long term problems or spinal instability.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He spoke with a neurologist
who looked at all my imaging studies and said he's fairly confident that my
doctor won't need to get too close to the spine, but that he would be standing
by if necessary, and could do a cervical laminectomy on C-1 if needed in order
to get more of the tissue surrounding the tumor. You can look that up, too. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">So I have to call tomorrow
morning to his surgery scheduler and get it on the calendar. He said it could
be next week, but for sure by the following week. The surgery itself should
take between 3-4 hours and I will have to stay overnight, but that it will
probably only be a 2 week recovery time. Once the tumor is removed it could be
within 24 hours that they are able to tell what it is, or if it is malignant it
could be up to 5 days before they know the type and grade of the cancer. Then
he would present my case to an oncology board and they would give him all the
options for further treatment.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">And so the waiting
continues. We don't know, but God sure does, and that makes me realize I'm
exactly where He wants me to be! When it comes down to it, regardless of any
kind of diagnosis, no one really knows how long we have on this earth. I've
truly been grateful (really!) for the perspective this has given me. What
really matters? What has my life been about, and what do I WANT it to be about?
This has been life-changing already and I don't even know what it is! My friend
Kelsey said she'll never look at a kiwi the same way again. I concur.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">At least the surgery will be
scheduled as of tomorrow and we can have a better idea of when some questions
might be answered. I can't even begin to tell you how much your prayers and
love and support has meant to us. God is good! THANK YOU!!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">And by the way, my shoulder
is SO much better, almost completely back to normal! Those prayers...amazing!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I might actually finish this story on the next installment. I take it back, this is probably one of the stories in my life that will NEVER be completely finished. This chapter is bolded and highlighted in the book that is my life. And God has continued to reference this chapter many many times in the ones that have followed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 12pt 0in;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I pray that will always be the case.</span></div>
anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-74479138377747308092013-02-28T17:43:00.002-08:002013-03-01T09:37:23.299-08:00The bombshell, part 1<span class="userContent"><span class="usercontent"><em>*I've written most of the rest of this story already, so I promise you won't have to wait long to read part 2...or part 3, or 21 or however many parts there will be. Just one post would have maxed out poor blogspot. And you have other things to do today. But stay tuned.</em></span></span><br />
<br />
Yep. I'm doing it. I'm going to document some of my darkest moments here on blogspot for all the world to see. Do I want to do it? Well, it's the end of February 2013. And this happened at the end of May 2012. So...nope. I don't really want to do it. But I am really quite sure that I am supposed to do it. <br />
<br />
God has brought many things to light in the darkest moments. I do not want to forget those dark moments. Because it was during those dark moments when I came the closest I've ever been to actually seeing the face of God.<br />
<br />
Those of you who know me know that I don't write anything halfway. Which is probably why I had a hard time starting to write this story. This is going to be long. I'm going to give you a whole lot of details. Some of the details won't matter to you, but that's okay. They matter to me. And I don't want to forget them.<br />
<br />
For a long time I wondered when the other shoe would drop. We had a good life. Really and truly, I did not have many things to complain about. We were healthy, we were happy. We laughed a lot. We spent our 10th anniversary in Maui, and got to take the kids to Disneyland for Christmas. I mean we spent spring break with Chuck Norris at his ranch in Texas, for Pete's sake.<br />
<br />
But happiness like that couldn't last, right? I actually struggled for quite a while to give up my fear of all the potential trials we were going to face. I was missing so many of the blessings God had given me when I entertained those nagging thoughts of "nobody lives happily ever after."<br />
<br />
But then God started changing my heart. My facebook status at the beginning of January was this: <span class="userContent"><em>My greatest New Years resolution? It's not refusing to believe anything awful might happen in 2012. It's refusing to let those hard times steal my joy. I will fix my eyes "not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."</em></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><em></em></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Yep. I knew something was coming. I just didn't know what or when. But it didn't scare me anymore. God was preparing my heart for something big.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And then I got a phone call. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">It started when I had some horrific pain in my left shoulder. It hurt so bad one night that I woke up Dan, sobbing and asked him if he could stay home the next day so I could take a few expired Vicodin I had from a long ago surgery. Me and Vicodin, expired or not, are not able to work around heavy machinery or 2 small children. The pain was so intense that I actually considered going in to the ER. But since I'm an ER nurse, I would pretty much have to have a limb missing before I'd be admitted to the ER as a patient. So I took the Vicodin and got some fitful sleep.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I saw my doctor that morning and she sent me to get xrays. My shoulder pain radiated down my arm and made my fingers numb, so I thought it might be related to that "scar tissue" I had on my neck. You see, I had seen my doctor before about some neck pain, and told her I thought the right side of my neck felt a little different than the left side. I had been in a car accident years back and after she felt my neck, she thought it might be scar tissue from that, but to let her know if it hurt me or seemed to get bigger. Well, I thought it might have gotten bigger and was pushing on my spine making my shoulder and arm hurt. So she ordered an MRI.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I got the MRI a few days later after finding out my shoulder pain was just calcific tendonitis (a big calcium deposit on the tendon). I dreaded the MRI because I still had not been able to lay down on my soft bed much less a cold table due to the pressure on my shoulder. The pain was still so bad that I laid on the table for 55 minutes, my jaw clenched and tears running down my face, trying not to move so they wouldn't have to redo any of the tests. The whole time I was thinking, worst case scenario is that I have to have a minor surgery to remove some of that built up scar tissue. It honestly never occurred to me to think of anything worse.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And then I got a phone call. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">It was 2 days later, the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. May 25, 2012. I had a friend and her kids over to play with my boys and catch up over some coffee. I had told her I was waiting for a call from my orthopedic doctor about my tendonitis and if he could see me sooner due to the continued pain. It never occurred to me I would get a call from another doctor. The phone rang and I saw it was from a doctor's office, so I told my friend I needed to take it. She needed to leave anyway, so she started packing her kids up to go. I answered it and walked into the playroom behind our living room as I heard these words: </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"Angela, this is Dr. --- and I'm on call for your doctor. I'm really glad I got a hold of you before the weekend."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"Um...okay."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"So we got the results of your MRI back and they're very concerning. It looks like you have some cancer there in the back of your neck."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And my heart stopped beating for a second. And I got that feeling. The one that starts at the top of your head and washes to the tips of your toes. Numb. Hollow. Cold.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"Oookay..." I heard myself say that but it was like someone else was talking.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"So what I want you to do is go get a CT scan today, as soon as you possibly can, because we can't tell if there is any bone involvement."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"Okay." I heard my voice echoing in my head. Was this really happening?</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"I'm getting you in to see a head and neck cancer specialist up at OHSU, and you're his first appointment on Tuesday morning after the holiday. Do you have a pen, I can give you his number." </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I walked out of the playroom but felt like I was moving in slow motion. I waved goodbye to my friend as she walked out the door, and said, "sorry, this will probably take a few minutes." But what I could have said was, "sorry, I just found out I have cancer and my life is shattered, but I hope you have a great weekend."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">While I was looking for a pen the doctor said, "Do you have any questions?" </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Really? Only about 36 million questions. "Um, I'm sure my husband will have some questions." And then the lump in my throat dissolved into tears. The doctor realized I was crying and finally had some compassion. "I tell you what, I'll call the hospital and order the CT and tell them to squeeze you in today anytime you can get there. Then I'll call you back in a few minutes and you can ask me anything you want."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">"Okay." I felt like I was 2 years old and the only things I knew how to say were, "um" and "okay."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">The whole time I was waiting for his call back I felt like my insides were shaking. I thought about how I had to call Dan and how glad I was that it was me and not him or our kids. I looked at my body and thought about how weird it was that I didn't feel any different than I had 2 minutes ago, but that now I knew this body could be full of a deadly disease. I thought about the words "bone involvement." Being a nurse is not helpful during times like these. I thought about this cancerous tumor spreading to my bones and leaving me with only a few months to live. I thought of the people I've taken care of who have gone through chemo or radiation. It's painful. It's miserable. It's ugly. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And then the phone rang again. I asked him if he knew what type of cancer. Nope. I asked him if he knew what the treatment would be. Nope. I asked him more questions. And then I asked him, "Is there a chance that this is NOT cancer?" And his response was this: "Wellllll...I guess until there's an official biopsy, you never really know for sure about anything. But all the indications at this point are that it is." Not a lot of hope there. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Um. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Okay.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">During this conversation the kids have run into the room several times and keep looking at me funny because they realize I've been crying. Now I have to go to the hospital and get a CT scan. And I have to find a babysitter for my kids. AND there's no way I'm telling anyone what's going on until I know more. Except Dan. I have to tell Dan.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">It was around noon and I texted Dan at work. I have a direct number into his classroom, but I didn't really want him to stop teaching, hear from his wife that she has cancer, and then continue teaching. So I texted him something I've never texted before. "I need you to call me ASAP."</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And I waited. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I called my mother-in-law to ask her to babysit. I told her "they weren't sure about something on the MRI so they want me to get a CT." Because they weren't SURE. They were just confident enough about it to take a baseball bat to my world and then ask me if I had any questions. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I was getting ready to leave our house when Dan called. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember what he said. After a moment of silence he said, "God will get us through this, Ang. We know God is good, and he will get us through this." I knew I had just ripped a hole in my husband's heart, so his response was not trite. Those words didn't come with thoughtless pats on the back and a meaningless "there, there." Those were not words off a stupid Hallmark card, they were words from his heart.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent"> And they were true.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I blew my nose and tried to make my tear stained face presentable before taking the kids to my mother-in-law's. I didn't even go to the door, I just stood in the driveway and waved and told her either Dan or I would come pick them up around 3. I'm sure she knew something was wrong.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And then I drove to the hospital where I work. I went to the admitting department to get checked in for my CT. I had just been there 2 days before when I got my MRI. The admission's clerk smiled and said, "You're back for more, looks like!" And I smiled and nodded. This is not real. Then she looked at the order and obviously saw something like "CT cervical spine, related to malignant tumor, rule out bone involvement." And she stopped smiling. And she stopped making small talk. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I think the silence was worse.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I walked down the hall to radiology to wait, just one hall away from the ER where I work. I sat in the waiting room, praying no one that I knew would see me. ER staff brings patients to radiology all the time, so I sat with my back to the desk and put my face in a magazine. I have no idea what that magazine was or if it was even right side up. I sat there for over an hour waiting for them to "squeeze me in." And then my name was called and I recognized the CT tech. And he recognized me. We were silent going back to the CT scanner. I recognized the other 2 techs in the room as well. They had to ask me my name and what I was here for. I told them my name and that I had cancer in my neck and they were supposed to find out if it had spread to my bones. They looked down and nodded. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">After the scan was over they helped me off the table and I said, "I know you're not supposed to tell me..." and one of them said, "we're really not. I'm sorry." To me that was the worst. I've been back there with the CT techs as they scan lots of times, and they know what they're doing. They're not radiologists, but they've seen so many scans they're accurate most of the time. They didn't even tell me "I didn't see anything awful, but you'll have to wait for the radiologist to read it." That's what I would have done for another co-worker. So I assumed they'd seen the worst. And one of them walked me to the door with his hand on my shoulder and opened the door for me. He gave me a pat and a nod and big eyes. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Not helpful. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I fought tears the entire way down that long hallway and out to the car. Then I got in the car allowed myself to shed a few of those tears. But I couldn't just sit in the parking lot crying all day, so I sniffed, wiped the tears away and put the car into drive and headed towards home. My whole body started shaking and I realized it was 3pm and I'd forgotten to eat lunch. We'd been trying to eat healthy and not spend money eating out, so I thought about the half a sandwich on Dave's Killer Bread that awaited me at home. And then I let out a cry/laugh and thought, "I have cancer. I'm eating whatever the heck I want to!" So I drove through Burger King and got a Whopper and fries and I sat in the parking lot and started eating. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Man, it tasted good. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And then a brutal wave of emotion hit me. I had talked to Dan on the phone, but I hadn't seen him face to face. I hadn't been able to have someone that I love let me grab onto them and ask them to help me carry this burden. And the heaviness of this burden was starting to crush me. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I'd seen movies or read in books about people wailing when they cry. I've always been a fairly quiet crier. I've done the "boo hoo" sound sometimes. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">But this time, this cry, came from my soul. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I feared having to watch my husband grieve over me before I died. I feared that my kids would have to grow up without me, and all that I would miss. But honestly the thing that I feared most was letting God down. I knew he'd be faithful to me, but I was terrified that I wouldn't be faithful to him. I was horrified at the thought that I might one day curse God because of my pain or my misery. I didn't want everything I'd ever taught my kids or tried to show others to be in vain because I denied him at the end.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">That cry was ugly and noisy and I couldn't take it anymore. I mean, my Whopper was getting soggy from all the tears...this had to stop. I turned the car on and looked at the Ipod Dan had put in there. I pushed "random" on the playlist he had been listening to and the first words I heard were these, from NeedToBreathe's song <em>Garden</em>:</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><em>"Won't you take this cup from me. </em></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><em>Cause fear has stolen all my sleep. </em></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><em>If tomorrow means my death,</em></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><em>I pray you'll save their souls with it."</em> </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">What? God speaks through an Ipod? In that moment I believe he did. Those were the exact words I needed to hear. It was Jesus' prayer the night before he was crucified. "Father, if you are willing, take this cup<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-25907A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup> from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I felt with everything in me that God was asking me to be willing to say, "not my will but yours be done." And I also needed to realize that just as God has a purpose for my life, he will have a purpose for my death. "If tomorrow means my death/I pray you'll save their souls with it." God wasn't asking me to die so that the world's sins would be forgiven like he asked Jesus to, but what if even one person would turn to God because of my death? Am I willing to die so one of my friends or family members might live in heaven for eternity? Could that be God's reason for all this? </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">God, tell me you have a reason. WHAT IS YOUR REASON?</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">And then I heard <em>God</em> ask <em>me</em> a question. </span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">Are you willing to trust me even if you never know why?</span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">I wanted to be willing. I really really wanted to be willing. So again, I wiped the tears (and the snot) away, finished my cold fries, and headed home to reality.</span>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-69211029277871892862012-02-12T21:01:00.000-08:002012-02-13T12:30:54.915-08:00The rest of 2011I'm not going to bore you with a witty introduction. We've got a LOT of ground to cover here, people. Ready?<br />
<br />
<strong>September:</strong> <br />
<strong>#1.</strong> The boys started school...and by boys I mean Dan, Jake, and Ty. Dan's still teaching middle school math for which he will receive many crowns in heaven. Ty's in half-day kindergarten, and loves it with all his heart. He has a new BFF and a wonderful teacher and teacher assistant (the same ones Jake had last year.) Jake started 1st grade, and he's actually in a 1st/2nd grade split which makes me proud. He's reading up a storm and has Dan's ridiculous math abilities. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNqZl4-SXwkMvxlAUNcyIdLgoeXGBLBgiZ08RbpmTPaEjmlO5wjp5F-eorcSwrigfD-psC0wDERO7ohmbQjcNmO2lri8ehVcz1TzgtRdnXyvUhaAvDMK9FJghvR1IKFy3bu3IPA/s1600/school+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNqZl4-SXwkMvxlAUNcyIdLgoeXGBLBgiZ08RbpmTPaEjmlO5wjp5F-eorcSwrigfD-psC0wDERO7ohmbQjcNmO2lri8ehVcz1TzgtRdnXyvUhaAvDMK9FJghvR1IKFy3bu3IPA/s320/school+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong>#2.</strong> School starting meant the start of a glorious stage of life for me that includes a quiet house from the hours of 8am-11am. I've used this time in a variety of ways, my favorite of which is grocery shopping without needing to apologize to the check-out clerk for the 20 fruit roll-ups she'll need to put back because I didn't authorize their presence in this monstrosity that is the "car cart." Oh, and yes she certainly can ring up those ones that are mangled beyond recognition after a vicious light saber duel, and sorry bout that.<br />
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<strong>October:</strong><br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: left;"><strong>#1</strong>. The boys played flag football for the first time. I keep thinking that someday I won't make a fool of myself when my boys score a goal or make a basket or catch a pass. Not gonna be anytime soon. I think Jake scored at least one touchdown in every game they played and I hooted and hollered through every last one of them. And when Ty got to run the ball or pulled a flag off an opponent, I just about burst with pride. I'm really not an emotional girl, but when one of my boys looks over at the sidelines and grins once they know I've seen their accomplishment, I have to fight back tears. Can NOT wait for all the games they'll play in the years to come! Jake and Ty, win or lose your mama will always be your biggest fan. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkKRqe_GOQWZKze0kNe-93-TefAOjKVuvxo6sQz2eQncqky4OYmPf9deALKPEkIUnTt9z2iFlN21FiShBjGvFDaEmNiJPhXhKWrGqxPySpXoZjHEDxvS8WS7mRoj-WnYzHlXjPQ/s1600/Ty+football" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkKRqe_GOQWZKze0kNe-93-TefAOjKVuvxo6sQz2eQncqky4OYmPf9deALKPEkIUnTt9z2iFlN21FiShBjGvFDaEmNiJPhXhKWrGqxPySpXoZjHEDxvS8WS7mRoj-WnYzHlXjPQ/s320/Ty+football" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxcT624zY6vHJoSGZwqdLmQkMAyqpIXnmJ_gqRlrgNbzcak28LI5-9p6W9KZsu9RO4JwQcUJ-1s_nPjb32gG_S6-GawfQh9_nuOhX4oGXLrk2bPwbBLXl_1UxVkIcZeo1CY0gAw/s1600/Jake+football" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxcT624zY6vHJoSGZwqdLmQkMAyqpIXnmJ_gqRlrgNbzcak28LI5-9p6W9KZsu9RO4JwQcUJ-1s_nPjb32gG_S6-GawfQh9_nuOhX4oGXLrk2bPwbBLXl_1UxVkIcZeo1CY0gAw/s320/Jake+football" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigRpmMjatHLtQh2CKqp_hFCLi7CocIGsUyCn4NFeBd8rHN_8eLYPBUZQpQrFLjzDqU2PwXoZHXI7w1qQyLtDx_HOaXbyan_6Al23nLL1nm1dRizq0DEXHRp5XuibYxl0ZM0UEig/s1600/JT+football" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigRpmMjatHLtQh2CKqp_hFCLi7CocIGsUyCn4NFeBd8rHN_8eLYPBUZQpQrFLjzDqU2PwXoZHXI7w1qQyLtDx_HOaXbyan_6Al23nLL1nm1dRizq0DEXHRp5XuibYxl0ZM0UEig/s320/JT+football" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>November:</strong> <br />
<strong>#1.</strong> Thanksgiving was great, thanks for asking. My parents came over to my in-laws house with us for dinner and it was such a great time having both sides together! My sister and family moved to California in October so we were missing them a ton, but dry your eyes...wait til we get to December. Oh, we might be to December. Was November really this boring? Apparently.<br />
<br />
<strong>December:</strong><br />
<strong>#1</strong>. NOT BORING. Jake stepped off the school bus on the last day of school before Christmas break and buckled himself into my parents van. I fed Ty some Dramamine and my mom headed the van towards Dan's school to pick him up. The 6 of us had an uneventful (this means good) drive all the way to down 1-5 to Redding before we stopped for the night. Then the next day we made it to good old Rancho Cucamonga. Yep. Rancho Cucamonga. Please read it out loud. Cucamonga. You couldn't help but shout it out, could you? I'm having flashbacks to Teenage Mutant Ninga Turtles..."cowabunga, dude." Not that I watched TMNT. But just saying "Rancho Cucamonga" makes me feel young again. Because I'm so old. Hobbling to the bathroom with my cane to put in my dentures. But...I digress. Back to Cucamonga, dude.<br />
<strong>#2</strong>. We were able to stay with the Franklins in their new Rancho Cucamongan house. They have a nice big Cucamongan orange tree in their Cucamongan front yard, so we were able to have fresh squeezed Cucamongan orange juice for breakfast each Cucamongan morning. We were able to go to their Cucamongan church (alright, I'll stop...the church is officially in Upland anyway) and listen to my bro-in-law preach a great sermon. It was so wonderful to see them all settled in, because as much as we miss them, Rancho Cucamonga seems like the perfect fit for them. Those Cucamongan's really know how to make people feel at home. I'm done, I swear. (Photos courtesy of my sister...whose permission I didn't receive, but I'm sure she would have said yes had I asked.)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3Zye2a8pQEzH9HEKpYrkJGHfw_6UlzBqJ8dQSoQlr5vjY1WaEf6o32NskTXpJkqMSU9pn7tNYWA11kBGoOK7nl2lQBdZlHrqwnJUHG_dUvpGCFohFnY0QS0EUqH37IYHk56Siw/s1600/cucamonga+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3Zye2a8pQEzH9HEKpYrkJGHfw_6UlzBqJ8dQSoQlr5vjY1WaEf6o32NskTXpJkqMSU9pn7tNYWA11kBGoOK7nl2lQBdZlHrqwnJUHG_dUvpGCFohFnY0QS0EUqH37IYHk56Siw/s320/cucamonga+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong>#3</strong>. Two words. Disney. Land. Wait, that's not even two words. Well, those are occasionally used as two separate words, but not on this trip. Disneyland was epic. My parents couldn't have picked a better Christmas present for us! One day at California Adventure sandwiched between two days at the happiest place on earth. Ty got over his fear from last time we went (mostly) and rode Thunder Mountain 3 times and even put his hands up the last time. Jake's fearlessness was on display once again as he rode California Screamin' approximately 39 times. Here's a great video my dad took of he and Jake on that ride. Because you obviously have time to kill if you're still reading this post: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/B9y1nUDMEY0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><strong>#4.</strong> We made such great memories with the grandparents and cousins and even just with our own family. One pretty chilly night we went on Grizzly Rapids right before we went back to the hotel and got SOAKED. We were so cold it was ridiculous but the 4 of us laughed so hard we cried. The boys were seriously shrieking with delight. Watching the Christmas fireworks show and having it snow on us on Main Street was unforgettable. Christmas in Disneyland is truly magical.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qX4VmUz7AxqtGHkyk_vbSgc4eJi6SDpkWK-CQysW-qqZl3xsdM0VIOglC_1m37PaM9c7ZRC8PzSsksWZcrRxcZ8s6tL-zSclfbgHVyicFNpjJeI5rrIbSMJ7cFDLH5-T2MpBwA/s1600/disney+christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qX4VmUz7AxqtGHkyk_vbSgc4eJi6SDpkWK-CQysW-qqZl3xsdM0VIOglC_1m37PaM9c7ZRC8PzSsksWZcrRxcZ8s6tL-zSclfbgHVyicFNpjJeI5rrIbSMJ7cFDLH5-T2MpBwA/s320/disney+christmas.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><strong>#5</strong>. We made it back to Gresham on the 23rd, so we spent Christmas Eve with the Stump family and it was fabulous as always. Great food and the best company. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I'm honestly amazed at how blessed I am to have married into that family. The only thing that could have been better is to have had Jane and her sweet family with us too!<br />
<strong>#6</strong>. Christmas day was superb. We've always reserved the day just for our family, even when we were first married. I love that tradition! We had "Christmas breakfast" which includes caramel/pecan monkey bread, bacon, sausage, OJ, coffee, and a lot of love and laughter. Then we went to church and watched the kids perform a few songs and memory verses. Our dinner plans were originally going to be another tradition of Chinese take-out, but we were invited to spend dinner with some great friends and totally took them up on it. Thanks, Scott and Amber, we love you guys! <br />
<strong>#7</strong>. All of December was a great celebration of the life we are able to live because of our Creator. All these wonderful things are just a tiny taste of the future we will have because of what happened on Christmas day. We're overwhelmed with thankfulness to God for sending his Son to this earth to live and to die and to rise from the dead so that we can spend eternity with Him! <br />
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And that, my friends, wraps up 2011. Don't look at your calendar. Just realize the fact that I, Angela Stump, have climbed the mountain called Months of Silence and have finished another year of blogging.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">As for 2012. It's coming, I promise. Until next time...Cucamonga, dude.</div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-63263265681543682742012-01-16T05:02:00.000-08:002012-01-16T05:19:08.742-08:00Summer 2011 part 2Some of you doubted me, I know it. I told you it wouldn't take me 6 months to give you Summer 2011 part two. It's only been 5 1/2 months, HA! So there. I do have a few more things to update you on besides summer. Like fall and most of winter. But better late than never, right? Where were we? Oh yes, August: <br />
<br />
Oh Geez, August, sorry folks: <br />
#1. "Take me out to the ball game!" What a PERFECT day we had up in Seattle at a Mariners game! Hot dogs, garlic fries, sunshine, happy children. Hmm, the order of my list might imply that I valued the food and sunshine more than the children...not the case, I can assure you. But seriously, have you had those garlic fries?<br />
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#2. Jake turned 7 and now I have to physically restrain myself from squeezing him to death when I think about him growing up so quickly. He is funny, he is smart, and 9 times out of 10 he passionately wants to do the right thing. He's independent but still loves to sit next to me and link his arm in mine. Oh sweet boy, never stop cuddling with your mother! <br />
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For his birthday party we went to Blue Lake Park and barbecued and played in the lake and in the Kids' Splash Zone. It was a great day, filled with great food and great people celebrating with us. A quick side note: Jake got the movie Newsies for his birthday and for the next few weeks went around belting out the song, "Carrying the Banner." Pretty stinking hilarious to listen to a 7-year-old sing at the top of his lungs in a bad New York accent, "That's my cigah/You'll steal anotha/Hey bumma's we got woik tah do/Since when did you become me muddah/Aw stop yah bawlin'/Hey...who ast you?" (How many of you are humming to yourself right now? Only me?)<br />
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#3. We packed up again and headed to the Oregon Coast to spend time with Dan's extended family. We'd been looking forward to this yearly trip to SeaKrest for such a long time; it's always a blast. Unfortunately the 5 day vacation was cut short when Jake woke up puking at midnight our second night in. All 4 of us were in one room with bunk beds and he sat up on the top bunk and announced he was about to blow. I went from a dead sleep to a sheer panic when I realized he was about to barf off the side of his bed and directly onto me and my blanket below. He barely missed my head as I sprung out of bed and grabbed the first thing I could find in the pitch darkness for him to finish barfing on...a pair of Dan's pants. Not ideal. It took me quite a while to tidy up the nursery after that episode, but I placed a sponge-bathed Jake and a designated barf bowl in bed next to me (after wiping off the vomit on my sheet and covering the wet spot with a towel.) Needless to say I didn't get a lot of shut-eye after that. As soon as the sun rose I knew we had to pack it up so we didn't spread the love around to the rest of the family.<br />
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The boys were devastated that we had to leave all the cousins and the fun. I quarantined Jake in the bedroom as we were packing up and brought him some dry cereal to get something in his empty stomach. A few minutes later he looked up in all his pathetic-ness in and said in a quiet sweet voice, "Mom I want a little more Cinnamon Toast Crunch." Then Ty speaks up, belting out angrily, "I want a little more <em>stay here</em>." And that's my second born, folks. Humor stemming from a need for some serious anger management.<br />
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Another great quote from The Tragedy That Was Our Vacation happened on the drive home. Jake was sitting in the back seat sipping on some orange Powerade. Then he suddenly stops mid gulp and says, "OH!" and starts frantically screwing the lid on. "What is it?" I ask, frantically looking for something other than Dan's pants to stop Spew Fest #2. "That sign..." he said, "I can't drink in here. The sign said 'please don't drink and drive.'"<br />
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As long as we're talking about funny quotes I believe I might have a few from the last 5 1/2 months that will amuse you. Or at least will amuse Jake and Ty as they look back on this blog 10 years from now. Cause heaven knows they're not going to be amused by their non-existent baby books. Sorry guys. <br />
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*Ty burped loudly and I waited, then said, "What do you say?" He responded, "Burp." I gave him a stern look and he assured me, "burp means excuse me...in Spanish."\<br />
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*Ty was being really whiny and Dan asked him, "Are you a big kid or are you a little kid, cause you sound like a little kid." Ty smiled and said, "I'm not a little kid, you're a little kid. You're a one-year-old...no you're...you're a not-even-born-year-old."<br />
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<strong>These ones I'm stealing from facebook (is it called stealing if you take it from yourself? Hm.)</strong> <br />
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">*Ty picked out a pair of x-small yoga pants for me today while shopping at Old Navy. I said, "Oh no, honey, those are for super skinny mommies," to which he replied, "but you're a skinny mommy." I now have a favorite child.</span><br />
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*The boys were fighting in the other room and I went in to referee. Me: "What is going on?" Jake, in a very whiny voice: "I'm just trying to rule the galaxy and Ty's not letting me."<br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">*I sprung for the "Deluxe" Kraft mac and cheese at Winco the other day. Today for lunch I started to boil a pot of water and Ty yelled, "YES!! Are you making the mac-'n'-splendid-cheese?"</span><br />
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">*We were house sitting for my parents and Jake was looking the display of my senior pictures. "Mom, I think I would love you more if you looked like that (he pointed at 17-year-old me) instead of looking...like this." And then pointed directly at my current makeup-less face. Wow, thanks honey.</span><br />
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">*Ty: "Hey Jake, you know one thing we will never EVER do?" Jake: "Play with Barbie toys?" Ty: "Well, yeah that too, but..."</span><br />
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"></span>Because I realize that I must be losing readers with each long-winded sentence, I'll cut it here. We'll continue September-January in the next installment. Which is actually WRITTEN already. I just have to edit it. Which shouldn't take me more than 5 1/2 months, I promise :)anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-59513199909865966902011-08-20T16:54:00.000-07:002011-08-20T20:07:36.998-07:00Summer 2011A warm aloha to my blogging friends! It's that time again. The twice yearly update. Let's see, I need to cover most of June, all of July and most of August in <em>one</em> post. Simple, really. Easy as pie. A no brainer. Piece of cake. A slam dunk. Easy peesy mac'n'cheesy.<br />
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Trying to recount 3 months worth of life will be easy? Heck yes. This from the girl who takes 30 paragraphs for one single story on one single day. But seriously now. How could writing about this summer NOT be easy? I mean, this post started out with the words "warm" and "aloha." So without further ado (or cliches), I'm proud to give you: <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Summer 2011</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>June:</strong></span> <br />
#1: Ty graduated from preschool and Jake graduated from Kindergarten. This means that I'll have graduated to a mother of 2 kids in school EVERY day come September. Are they really that old? Am <em>I</em> really that old? <br />
<strong><em>Which brings me to:</em></strong><br />
#2: I turned 30. And I liked it.<br />
#3: I had a grand birthday party with my fantastic husband and my fabulous friends.<br />
#4: We continued our "Biggest Loser" competition with some friends that we started in February, and continued to see pounds come off because the dream of delicious empty carbs was not as big as the dream of not feeling mortified in swimsuits for our quickly approaching anniversary trip to Hawaii. <br />
#5: Dan and I (mostly Dan) planned, and day-dreamed of, every waking moment we'd spend in Maui starting on the 4th of July.<br />
<strong><em>Which brings me to:</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">July:</span></strong><br />
#1. I finished packing myself for Hawaii, the kids for 5 nights with G&G Stump and 5 with G&G Alcorn, and Felix for Doggy Heaven on Earth (AKA the Alcorn house...where my mom actually refers to Feel as her "granddog" and has Felix address her dalmatian as "Uncle Moses.")<br />
#2. I stepped on the scale and mentally flogged myself for being 1 pound over my goal weight I'd set in January, and then I realized I had lost 29lbs. Not the 30 I was hoping for, but 29 pounds felt pretty gosh darn great!<br />
#3. After giving Alaska airlines the deed to our house in order to check our luggage, we boarded the plane and I started the first of 9 books I read on the trip. Yep, nine. I'm pretty literate. And yep, I bought a Kindle before we left in order to save some of our retirement money that we'd have spent on checking the extra suitcase full of books. Literate and frugal. I'm quite the catch.<br />
<strong><em>Which brings me to:</em></strong><br />
#4. My catch. The one I caught 10 years ago. The one that after 10 years of marriage I love even more than on our wedding day. Holy smokes did we have a great anniversary trip! We laughed and reminisced through the longest uninterrupted conversations we've had in 7 years (love you Jake and Ty), and then we had hours of comfortable uninterrupted silence. We had adventures like a helicopter tour and parasailing and almost dying on our boat ride back from snorkeling Molokini and spending a day circling and snorkeling Lana'i. And oh yes, we had food. <br />
<strong><em>Which brings me to:</em></strong><br />
#5: Quite possibly the best meal I've ever eaten. In the most amazing location I've ever eaten at. Our victory dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse seated right by the ocean as the sun set. It was there that our friends Paul and Natalie (who were also celebrating their 10th) officially crowned us "Biggest Losers" as we inhaled our butter-drenched steaks and mac'n'cheese with caramelized onions and our fried potatoes...If there was a "Biggest Gainer" competition after eating just one meal, let's just say we would have owned that crown as well. <br />
#6: Our completely wonderful relaxing and renewing vacation was the perfect amount of time away. The last night we were there, falling asleep to the sounds of the ocean, we looked at each other and agreed it was time to reenter reality. I absolutely <em>love </em>regaining the perspective that when it comes right down to it, I wouldn't truly want to live any other place but home or live any other life than mine, with any other people than the friends and family God has blessed me with. <br />
<em><strong>Which brings me to:</strong></em> (am I not just nailing these segues by the way?)<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>August:</strong></span> <br />
#1 Jake's birthday. <br />
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Ah, shoot. I'm actually thinking I should break this up a bit. I'm getting exhausted just thinking about rereading this to edit my mistakes. Not that I ever make a mistake...okay, spell check is my BFF. I've already written half of August, so you won't need to wait another 5 months for me to finish it. At least I'm pretty sure I'll finish it soon. O ye of little faith! Return soon for Jake's birthday, the 2 day vacay that was supposed to be a 5 day vacay, and some great one liners from Jake and Ty.<br />
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So until then, I'll leave you with these. Just a taste of our amazing vacation:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcZqAqDxqFwOfikIWtuG7-2THZgdeRDh9GlMsb9fvFTQrHcR4j1elGq18CDBkJeYtv7Bo11pcsvIwTJ4q_W_gaQb6lXiWPNBIFwfSkjEXVWHDsP5BLYneAovOv18QfaaPdkfO1g/s1600/Maui2011+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcZqAqDxqFwOfikIWtuG7-2THZgdeRDh9GlMsb9fvFTQrHcR4j1elGq18CDBkJeYtv7Bo11pcsvIwTJ4q_W_gaQb6lXiWPNBIFwfSkjEXVWHDsP5BLYneAovOv18QfaaPdkfO1g/s320/Maui2011+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2ewu3yWqLeuKGSRmhE36oppaYC14MPgU7JOcJtJR4R7SJDLcVy_gfxBOtotgRtv5HniOFkQIMe2HcnDjmUbo7EbB7-Sdx8RWfsmZbnCzXJurjlZ9rrdqWlcqXKd3xFR782rCdg/s1600/Maui2011+collage2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2ewu3yWqLeuKGSRmhE36oppaYC14MPgU7JOcJtJR4R7SJDLcVy_gfxBOtotgRtv5HniOFkQIMe2HcnDjmUbo7EbB7-Sdx8RWfsmZbnCzXJurjlZ9rrdqWlcqXKd3xFR782rCdg/s320/Maui2011+collage2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-29068367574585891312011-06-06T09:42:00.000-07:002011-06-06T09:44:00.666-07:00Could it be?Well helloooooo there, blog! Feeling a bit neglected lately? You know what, I'm not even going to apologize. Okay, maybe I'll apologize for breaking cardinal blogging rule #1: not blogging about Christmas. And shoot, maybe I really should say I'm sorry for not blogging on Ty's 5th birthday. But honestly...not really very sorry.<br />
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I know it will come as a bit of a surprise to you all, er, to the both of you who still even remember that I once was a semi-regular blogger at one point in my life, BUT I'm fairly certain that I'm not going to be blogging very often anymore. I told you. Shocker. Why, you two ask? Because, my friends. Well...just because. I really don't have a great reason besides the fact that at a certain point I realized I was stressing myself out feeling like I had to record every funny/important/meaningful moment in our lives or I was destined to forget it all. I decided I really enjoy living it more than I enjoy writing about it. It's like when I realized I was missing just having a blast watching my boys' basketball games because I was so nervous I wouldn't get one of their baskets recorded on our video camera. I know it's sad, but I truly found myself thinking at certain times in the past "now how am I going to word this best when I write about it on the blog?" rather than just appreciating the moment.<br />
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There are times when I have really loved writing, but I'm not super passionate about it right now. Know what I am passionate about? My family. My husband and my boys are just about the coolest things ever. I just love being with them. Life is really good for us right now, and I'm pretty gosh darn excited to keep living it without as many distractions.<br />
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OH stop it, I'm not saying I'm quitting the blog all together, simmer down. I'll still post some memorable stories every now and then. Half the reason I'm not posting as much is because I told myself I wanted a record of my kids' childhood. Because heaven knows I'm not keeping up with any baby books. But my kids are growing up. They don't have as many crazy things happening to them (or because of them) anymore. They're kinda boring. And after experiencing the first 4 years of Ty's life, I'd like to take this moment to raise the roof for the word "boring." NO, boring is the wrong word. Really it is. They continue to crack me up on a daily basis. For example:<br />
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Ty recently stated on his way to swimming lessons, "I hope Carrot is going to be there." Carrot? "Yeah, my new friend Carrot." Um Ty, I think you mean Garrett. "Oh, yeah. Garrett."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvyKwjmAU8OOrWOaW9RDcQI88xQtIZ1dmVgnQ06yeyois12Pcs40YS8uZEVWAd_YBzC8QNqy9owSs5g8LfBJuKcmoOoN5sURRgPugN9LctqHJxZaJ-kef_Y17iTgzu5f9nNBTiQ/s1600/T+train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvyKwjmAU8OOrWOaW9RDcQI88xQtIZ1dmVgnQ06yeyois12Pcs40YS8uZEVWAd_YBzC8QNqy9owSs5g8LfBJuKcmoOoN5sURRgPugN9LctqHJxZaJ-kef_Y17iTgzu5f9nNBTiQ/s320/T+train.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When asked what he wanted for breakfast the other day, Ty replied, "Could you make some Sherman waffles? Sherman waffles are my favorite." Sherman waffles? I have no idea what you're talking about. He described the "Sherman waffles" in great detail and I burst out laughing. German pancakes...the child meant German pancakes.<br />
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Jake continues to grow like a weed on steriods. He and Ty have the same size waist but Jake's legs are approximately 9 feet longer which makes buying pants for him a little difficult. Whoever thought of the adjustable waistband for kids is a genius. Rock star brilliant. I mean I know there are people out there coming up with cures for horrific diseases, but my hat is off to the guy who made it his life's mission to make certain my child wouldn't go pantsless. Can I get an amen?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusob334fh8Q1PxVaygg_hshMFFR9GBbSAXWA_ajlwDdIVtxqHcw8WLr-1UMn-v3EIYyX75tI5HsZlWBjcnTnE3HBEIjD5P_ggdG6MQrj8tbzChYYQmpz15eEmcjaNJif-BO_5DQ/s1600/JT+trains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusob334fh8Q1PxVaygg_hshMFFR9GBbSAXWA_ajlwDdIVtxqHcw8WLr-1UMn-v3EIYyX75tI5HsZlWBjcnTnE3HBEIjD5P_ggdG6MQrj8tbzChYYQmpz15eEmcjaNJif-BO_5DQ/s320/JT+trains.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
So anywayssss, Christmas was great. Watching the boys play basketball together on the same team was the highlight of my winter. Ty's Star Wars birthday was a little chaotic with almost 20 kids in my house, but he loved every light-saber-bearing-Darth-Vader-defeating-Jedi moment of it. Swimming lessons was one of the highlights of my children's lives. Ty graduated from preschool and Jake will graduate soon from Kindergarten which means I will have both kids in school every day next year (Ty will still have half days) and I'm a teensy bit world-rocked with what that will mean for my every day life.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVomUT8groRBqoYSJ3NqwSxlO7uDHmPJ8Wxc51qbFQlaiuHV6BVPubHqTCnIW8pAPpD5Fie4IfYLY-Gz4pFZjjRAbRDUYsmJ47H7AnGuGnVpXu5UlC5VXkvbRhfTcCJwNHp7sPA/s1600/JT+bball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVomUT8groRBqoYSJ3NqwSxlO7uDHmPJ8Wxc51qbFQlaiuHV6BVPubHqTCnIW8pAPpD5Fie4IfYLY-Gz4pFZjjRAbRDUYsmJ47H7AnGuGnVpXu5UlC5VXkvbRhfTcCJwNHp7sPA/s320/JT+bball.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Oh there's tons more, but I've spent too much time at the computer already today and so I'll sign off. With a promise there will be more blogging in the future. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. And for the rest of our lives...<br />
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Here's looking at you, blog readers.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQ6Cjk8IrEkMIVAkw2pVnwgITsP_o2zk3Pr-Kms0mI-20utM4K5Ko1MpooTXUOh8wBOpMV2GIaERoiGYl0BJxPoeO0ZZNasClfsjpQwBooyPAGUrbe3S76fOJwIFsDM6Z9L9KVw/s1600/JT+blackwhite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQ6Cjk8IrEkMIVAkw2pVnwgITsP_o2zk3Pr-Kms0mI-20utM4K5Ko1MpooTXUOh8wBOpMV2GIaERoiGYl0BJxPoeO0ZZNasClfsjpQwBooyPAGUrbe3S76fOJwIFsDM6Z9L9KVw/s320/JT+blackwhite.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-73449105876455032752010-12-19T21:00:00.000-08:002010-12-19T21:04:02.668-08:00July in Christmas!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">No, you didn't read it wrong. I said "July in Christmas." I know, the phrase is supposed to be "Christmas in July," but it's not July. It's Christmas. And I'm going to talk about July. When everybody else is talking Christmas, I'm talking July, baby. Wrap your mind around that one.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Down to business. And by business I mean the Happiest Place on Earth. It's Disneyland story time, folks. Only 5 months overdue. I actually wrote most of this post about 2 weeks after returning from Disneyland, but then there was Jake's birthday and then there was Dan's birthday and then there was soccer and school and Halloween. And I recall promising you this post sometime before 2011. Since it's against Blogger law to not post about Christmas and it's also against my own personal law to post a blog any earlier than 1 week after the event, I knew that I'd break my promise to tell you about our Disneyland trip before January 1...if I didn't do it tonight. There's no time like the present, right? That's my motto. Oh wait.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Just crank up the heat and put on some flip flops and sunblock and pretend I'm not the worst procrastinator you've ever known.</div><br />
<strong><u>July in Christmas:</u></strong><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On July 11th we packed up my parents' swagger wagon (not the official Toyota Sienna, but still a wagon with some swagger to be certain) and picked up Dan's parents and headed south. And by the way if you haven't seen the "swagger wagon" video, you're seriously missing out and need click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4">this link</a> immediately. So...official start time was 8:24pm and Dan's goal had been set to drive through the night as the kids slept and reach Anaheim in 16 hours. I, being the encouraging wife that I am, laughed in his face when he told me that goal. Two small children with two small bladders, and two small attention spans that were going to be stuck in two small carseats did not equal 16 hours in my humble opinion.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Who knew that after picking up Dan's sister Jane, Curtis and little Bekah in northern CA, we were actually on pace. And then we decided to stop for lunch at In&Out (my mouth just started to water as I typed those words) before crossing the Grapevine. Ah, the Grapevine. You know, that windy stretch of I-5 in SoCal with no exits that takes you up into the mountains, and then out into the valley. We were pumped to pass this milestone and not stop til we high-fived Mickey himself. And then we went around a corner. And abruptly stopped. For the next 3 hours. Seriously, we drove 4 miles in 3 hours. It sorta makes me exhausted all over again just thinking about it. God bless the Swagger Wagon and its DVD player. The kids did awesome. I, on the other hand, probably lost a few years off my life due to my blood pressure reaching limits it had not seen before. I'm not exactly the most patient of drivers. Although it was great to get to catch up with Jane sitting next to me in the front seat. In fact, she probably lowered my stress meter down to non-lethal levels. Here's to you, Jane. </div><br />
We found out 3 hours later as we passed a charred semi-truck what the problem had been. Well, like I said, we had been on pace to completely miss LA traffic, but of course now we were stuck right in the middle of it as we exited the Grapevine. Our 16 hour trip turned into a 22 hour trip. But long story (not even remotely) short, we made it!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6G6eMSFjil00HzYm0WwUJfBR_jGp5iT1SciC68r2oF97tQAKbIwKnWvSHxj7ka-2ksqCgqRbhKr9P9Gf2VWYeYY4huJF10ki9nMMwvGDdP2CpJV1ayqB3vwIqtBWe1HMSS9_GQ/s1600/mickey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6G6eMSFjil00HzYm0WwUJfBR_jGp5iT1SciC68r2oF97tQAKbIwKnWvSHxj7ka-2ksqCgqRbhKr9P9Gf2VWYeYY4huJF10ki9nMMwvGDdP2CpJV1ayqB3vwIqtBWe1HMSS9_GQ/s320/mickey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Oh, Disneyland. The Happiest Place on Earth. My boys were in awe. We had 5 day hopper passes between Disneyland and California Adventure. The first ride we went on was Thunder Mountain Railroad. We assumed that Ty would be the daredevil (this in keeping with his typical fearless behavior) and that Jake might be a little more cautious. So we decided not to tell the boys how fast Thunder Mountain would be. Jake rode next to me and Ty next to Dan. Jake was whooping it up, screaming for it to go faster and grinning from ear to ear. And evidently Ty was clinging to Dan for dear life and asking him "are there any more fast parts?" after the first turn. Who'da thought? </div><br />
After that Jake was giddy about the thought of more fast rides and Ty was a little unsure about what we'd gotten into. Dumbo was his highlight because he was able to control how high and low the flying elephant went. When he's in control there's no stopping his fearlessness. When he's not...well let's just say he had a death grip on Dan's arm during Pirates of the Carribean and there was no reasoning with him after Star Tours. Dumbo and Peter Pan and the carousel were better options. He still had a complete blast.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Jake, on the other hand, insisted on getting in line for California Screamin' when we went over to California Adventure. You had to be 48 inches to ride, and low and behold he was exactly 48 inches. 0-60mph in 5 seconds, upside down loop, crazy drops. And Jake couldn't get enough. He had the need...the need for speed. Wow, thanks writers of Top Gun for coming up with that catchy phrase to cleverly end this paragraph.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4LAQfV_jmg1RvOY1H7DL_VdHT3XSm_jpwfIRmJ2Cc58mshzi4_64TXS8v7dBMrvQvcVRnmxGFYLA1nxASuJgG_t0rIqDS4vAYtzuN7cR99YeGB8OWh9YSSE196tH-Stg2iz-sag/s1600/california+screamin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4LAQfV_jmg1RvOY1H7DL_VdHT3XSm_jpwfIRmJ2Cc58mshzi4_64TXS8v7dBMrvQvcVRnmxGFYLA1nxASuJgG_t0rIqDS4vAYtzuN7cR99YeGB8OWh9YSSE196tH-Stg2iz-sag/s320/california+screamin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We had a great hotel that was super close so we were able to walk to the park each day. The only downside to the trip was that tiny detail of it being the hottest week in the history of mankind. It was close to 750 degrees (give or take) every day we were there. The kids were champions and barely complained. But that's probably partly because I made them drink 4 times their body weight in water. Dan and I are bigger so we only drank 3 times our body weight, and probably lost approximately that much fluid through our pores as we stood in line after line.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SC3BHEunR7AnGyPU70Q3nLbZwX3Vmavsw2AlmnFmiCGdaGVELt68tsgYXA3nFmXcBY6IFsAydF8NVQ3tO0vLw8HFK0ZnRLxF6teLB-BAVGVOmzgrjyrme3H23Y_8Un-WxphfBg/s1600/mickey+ears.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SC3BHEunR7AnGyPU70Q3nLbZwX3Vmavsw2AlmnFmiCGdaGVELt68tsgYXA3nFmXcBY6IFsAydF8NVQ3tO0vLw8HFK0ZnRLxF6teLB-BAVGVOmzgrjyrme3H23Y_8Un-WxphfBg/s1600/mickey+ears.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But in all honesty, looking back I don't remember the heat as much as I remember the sheer joy on my kids' faces when they met each character, or the shrieks of delight while riding their favorite rides. What awesome memories! So glad we got to share it with my incredible in-laws. Thanks Gram and Pops for making it even more special.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The trip home was much less eventful. I don't recall at this moment if we did make Dan's goal of 16 hours but it sure didn't feel like it when we pulled into our driveway. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_LfM03SP4sU0HRwjYkJNGzjvtWLZz02bMfwHCllKEWIIvp1zu6Mxz5QXlxXVoxBNoq_BYpUqOYbfOsxz9K7yIGNmFGbg0M2fuFWKlFCIR9sozTyPuYGBDtSaP1dC35Jnnt0BJg/s1600/sleeping.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_LfM03SP4sU0HRwjYkJNGzjvtWLZz02bMfwHCllKEWIIvp1zu6Mxz5QXlxXVoxBNoq_BYpUqOYbfOsxz9K7yIGNmFGbg0M2fuFWKlFCIR9sozTyPuYGBDtSaP1dC35Jnnt0BJg/s1600/sleeping.JPG" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We felt like we could have and should have slept for days, but alas, life goes on. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Aaaand, 5 months later...Disneyland blog done. Promise kept. You can turn the heat down now. I'm done with July. That's right, it's December. Put your Snuggie back on and go back to the fireplace and turn on some Christmas carols.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">See you in 2011.</div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-7254040539213165542010-11-01T18:48:00.000-07:002010-11-01T18:55:12.709-07:00Happy HalloweenOh, Halloween. What a love/hate relationship we have. The love part started, of course, when I was little. Wearing makeup and getting buckets of candy pretty much sums up my life's goals as young girl. I mean seriously...when a 7-year-old sporting a homemade Mary the mother of Jesus frock with a baby Jesus doll (wrapped in swaddling clothes) under one arm gets to slather on some red lipstick and blue eyeshadow, go to a "harvest party" and get a pillowcase full of cinnamon bears and tootsie rolls...how could it not be love?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnQ6ktDDdPmMegy4kYAJQE1A7TDX-am5DFmmFayhWHVnk-LSDWF_sGzKEWNvtav31U3NxTy8YCtwL-rKqv6cvcVHC67n8L4_KcQiidrY-5aIs7yM02-DXmxcDpnrKO3uvIiWK4Q/s1600/pumpkins.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnQ6ktDDdPmMegy4kYAJQE1A7TDX-am5DFmmFayhWHVnk-LSDWF_sGzKEWNvtav31U3NxTy8YCtwL-rKqv6cvcVHC67n8L4_KcQiidrY-5aIs7yM02-DXmxcDpnrKO3uvIiWK4Q/s320/pumpkins.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The hate came when I realized that I was no longer young enough to pull out one of my mom's old prom dresses again and be willing to walk around the neighborhood in the rain. I guess driving myself around the neighborhood would have been an option. But I was also not young enough to appreciate smarties and sweet tarts anymore. Seriously folks, is the chocolate that much more expensive? Yes, (the adult in me has to interject at this point) it is that much more expensive. But oh so worth it. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The love came back when I had tiny kids and got to dress them up in a-stinking-dorable little costumes and walk them around town nodding at the exclamations of just how cute they were. It also didn't hurt that I got to eat all their candy because they couldn't chew on a Cheerio yet without risk of imminent death.</div><br />
And that hate part came in again when, for really the first time, the kids wouldn't let me talk them into (or out of) certain costumes. Of course I drew the line at a certain point, like no devil-children or Scream masks. Thankfully Jake picked out a Darth Vader mask at Goodwill that I was able to work with and thanks to my seamstress mother-in-law and her cape making abilities, he actually turned out to have one of the best costumes yet.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD7Rd_zdNIKI99hGtTXDz7BBNcNC9XTHR51cn_c7SK2KvGOxhKqHppznth4qUSx-8_GrMi-ABSzDV_pERjw-7Ak9SYnL-P3bhPwlkl66qBpdoWuveYwR_5Y2NLpsjpB9jVEQM-gw/s1600/darth+vader.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD7Rd_zdNIKI99hGtTXDz7BBNcNC9XTHR51cn_c7SK2KvGOxhKqHppznth4qUSx-8_GrMi-ABSzDV_pERjw-7Ak9SYnL-P3bhPwlkl66qBpdoWuveYwR_5Y2NLpsjpB9jVEQM-gw/s320/darth+vader.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Oh, and then there's Ty. He changed his mind about every 2.3 seconds and I ended up insisting he wear the Ninja costume I bought for him, again at Goodwill. I'm pretty passionate about second hand Halloween costumes, especially for boys who will inevitably rip them to pieces minutes after consuming ungodly amounts of Halloween candy. I was fully happy with the Ninja costume. Wow was he awesome in his full get-up. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpVCM4m65kxmQrtdNab03UnfDP8d-VAuKuUCxSxHR2RgdZTehz_wnkBN6H2n4Q2HGC9HGMYOv8ExVQanu6AufwGkd_2UXMxX9ygqDIDeLly4fKpYcE4XVOgAW2fYkx8baO7fXEQ/s1600/ty+ninja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpVCM4m65kxmQrtdNab03UnfDP8d-VAuKuUCxSxHR2RgdZTehz_wnkBN6H2n4Q2HGC9HGMYOv8ExVQanu6AufwGkd_2UXMxX9ygqDIDeLly4fKpYcE4XVOgAW2fYkx8baO7fXEQ/s320/ty+ninja.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Except for the fact that after he got in his full get-up, he decided it wasn't to be. The knight's helmet and breastplate we'd gotten at the dollar store 8 months ago was just too much to ignore. Except he didn't have an outfit to go underneath it. He became so passionate about the knight idea that I was certain he'd agree when I told him he'd have to just wear underwear beneath it because we didn't have time to go get another outfit. So...long story long, he decided to be a ninja knight. That child. At least I'm not worried about him ever giving in to peer pressure. When he's made up his mind, there will be no stopping him thank you very much. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirAnSc3CU0-ssdf_aut-X36DpF-Dvbm3KqZ7OERb2ecL1YB1vcfwfuvmN8YECNTJltxq9r2ZAYctV_bkbAWwamdwDtN6wHb-EBlgsaEeRFgu1sHeH2vt_3Hhf3v7lrt__NV44-w/s1600/ty+knight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirAnSc3CU0-ssdf_aut-X36DpF-Dvbm3KqZ7OERb2ecL1YB1vcfwfuvmN8YECNTJltxq9r2ZAYctV_bkbAWwamdwDtN6wHb-EBlgsaEeRFgu1sHeH2vt_3Hhf3v7lrt__NV44-w/s320/ty+knight.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We went to downtown Gresham, as is our tradition, and trick-or-treated with the six billion other children, and even got to meet up with the cousins. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BqnEpM54eUTaLLd5fQ00KGaQYdJ_dQnKDGVgKam-ipDAKX5GHzJ4q6A1IFWTIBGmZMMG28ccPvBulU8U55E-ObsFuqX8PIqtsWbscrlbzmE9BusxM6P2cS175eyIUPlBzrO2QQ/s1600/darth+and+knight.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BqnEpM54eUTaLLd5fQ00KGaQYdJ_dQnKDGVgKam-ipDAKX5GHzJ4q6A1IFWTIBGmZMMG28ccPvBulU8U55E-ObsFuqX8PIqtsWbscrlbzmE9BusxM6P2cS175eyIUPlBzrO2QQ/s320/darth+and+knight.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Another tradition we have is not getting a good picture of the 4 of them together. Or even one where they're all even remotely looking at the camera.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_lR5QxpCX2GSOgQwcOOVXyHuPJ2aGgipMSWFrkVuaRHzs1cTZP7c2VKzqu6n6w4WzDVP7TZDMrgQlydFKo-a9ZSpaESUuvsZATJy48jfxoSgr2IIocAl_3LmmY5FISBK_RwRpA/s1600/cousins.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_lR5QxpCX2GSOgQwcOOVXyHuPJ2aGgipMSWFrkVuaRHzs1cTZP7c2VKzqu6n6w4WzDVP7TZDMrgQlydFKo-a9ZSpaESUuvsZATJy48jfxoSgr2IIocAl_3LmmY5FISBK_RwRpA/s320/cousins.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">We also tricked and treated around our neighborhood and had a few "brave" moments at scary houses, and filled those pumpkin baskets to the brim with candy. Love/hate that candy.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">That about wraps it up. No rambling paragraphs from me tonight. Jake's been asking me to play the game Aggravation with him and I told him I'd be done 15 minutes ago. So if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a 6-year-old Darth Vader and some marbles.</div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-33408849028484782162010-10-17T23:39:00.000-07:002010-10-17T23:44:26.177-07:00These are the alliterations of our lives...<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Goodbye summer and sunshine. Hello school and soccer! Goodbye trips and time. Hello teachers and teammates! Goodbye California and chillaxin' (I know I'm not cool enough to use that word, but I'm trying to alliterate here.) Hello cold and classrooms! Goodbye organized chaos and once-a-month-blogging. Hello order and o...o...ONLY-going-to-ignore blogger-every-once in-a-while! Dang, alliteration is harder than I thought. Shoulda left the O's alone.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Okee dokee. So just a few things have happened since Dan turned 30 on September 1. The most monumental and shockingly absent on the blog (til now!) was the fact that Jake had his first day of kindergarten and Ty had his first day of school EVER. They're both loving school, and I'm loving the fact that on Thursday and Friday mornings from 8:25-10:55 I'm childless. Well, I guess Jake and Ty are still my children, I just don't have to watch them like a hawk in the grocery store so they don't stealthfully slip 300 fruit rollups in the cracks of the cart, or throw in 9 packages of Danimals Crush Cups that inevitably end up directly on top of the fluffy bread.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Here's some first day of school pictures:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyNeoLsHLtpVI5mZxs6HJ-ZcP-5v525uIlm5Pn8HhAsIUkst_K4sWqt_onahaXTl1eOMbzHXrxQB-pWQ_HQFJWy4L1Kr_MK6k70R7zWXLOw98zCGVF5lmP_-5uSVIJDtioTottQ/s1600/ty+preschool2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyNeoLsHLtpVI5mZxs6HJ-ZcP-5v525uIlm5Pn8HhAsIUkst_K4sWqt_onahaXTl1eOMbzHXrxQB-pWQ_HQFJWy4L1Kr_MK6k70R7zWXLOw98zCGVF5lmP_-5uSVIJDtioTottQ/s320/ty+preschool2.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6W-WmJCWqLJidlZG9IbXscNId0OnaOxBA6PJSFl3E7dS06wA7F0i_5OfdOlsXV7mVjo4y4aZPD3JtNqgwOv4h0LZLpqq667EPzQpz37Z7ENgFWP__t4VohOtMDfIHIfd4SIXYw/s1600/ty+preschool1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6W-WmJCWqLJidlZG9IbXscNId0OnaOxBA6PJSFl3E7dS06wA7F0i_5OfdOlsXV7mVjo4y4aZPD3JtNqgwOv4h0LZLpqq667EPzQpz37Z7ENgFWP__t4VohOtMDfIHIfd4SIXYw/s320/ty+preschool1.jpg" width="178" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5naCLC5K9UOtLAMZlxkp412aVa60ONDdAtD4YXM7M0rE7ahr9GIHok5cmqxUkQzKQ50g7WYeGX2s_cvTYFFiwTf8ww4EIzw-1B5epJdSOKKz8fRrTZvlR9KbJvYquO-7jEn3v1g/s1600/jake+backpack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5naCLC5K9UOtLAMZlxkp412aVa60ONDdAtD4YXM7M0rE7ahr9GIHok5cmqxUkQzKQ50g7WYeGX2s_cvTYFFiwTf8ww4EIzw-1B5epJdSOKKz8fRrTZvlR9KbJvYquO-7jEn3v1g/s320/jake+backpack.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>And I'll give a shout out to my friend Faith who was a better mom than I and actually brought her camera to the first day of kindergarten. Faith's daughter Peyton is in Jake's class. And will hopefully go on at least one date with him someday.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK6mrkJ8ed4hTLX3DRc5ETRRm4kNewemDZQcSKYwC9nfJCy26o-BKNHlWj-bw3OvYSKscZVoA_Kdq233dBIB17R-v-30KhRu2oC0PAal0gS_JUwpyyCuFnqobY8Tjr10PIJhuCQ/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHK6mrkJ8ed4hTLX3DRc5ETRRm4kNewemDZQcSKYwC9nfJCy26o-BKNHlWj-bw3OvYSKscZVoA_Kdq233dBIB17R-v-30KhRu2oC0PAal0gS_JUwpyyCuFnqobY8Tjr10PIJhuCQ/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tyNE0aNmWBAZ2ssBoMbjYGis9XT84xwS2gAYwtqjFEgs3lXqE0eLsfB5z5JEzK-LJ9PCc-2wYIeQ-j23MYomPc25B1kolQMUFvvXwuLeoWrLymC8E4IMdkj28-4ozpfLbGllAQ/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tyNE0aNmWBAZ2ssBoMbjYGis9XT84xwS2gAYwtqjFEgs3lXqE0eLsfB5z5JEzK-LJ9PCc-2wYIeQ-j23MYomPc25B1kolQMUFvvXwuLeoWrLymC8E4IMdkj28-4ozpfLbGllAQ/s320/007.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>Speaking of children dating, I have a funny story. Actually it's not at all funny to me now, but will hopefully someday be funny. Maybe. The first week of school I asked Jake (aka Most Social Kid of All Time) if he had made any friends. "Yep." Shocker. What are their names? "Well, there's Emma, she sits by me." Ooooh. Emma. Okay. So who did you play with at recess today? "Emma." Um, who<strong> <em>else</em></strong> did you play with at recess? "Wellllll, Emma doesn't really like me to play with other people." Oh my good gracious. Does it really start this early? Needless to say, I was quite insistent about the fact that he needed to tell Emma to find some other friends, hopefully some GIRL friends to possess, I mean to play with. Case closed. He's now playing with the boys at recess and has made a great friend in our neighborhood by riding the bus (which by the way, comes at 7:12 to get him to school by 8am). So he spends 45 minutes on the bus when it would take me approximately 45 seconds to drive him down the street to the school's front door. But he insists on riding that bus and has a grand old time every morning. His teacher is wonderful and I get to go volunteer in his class once a month.<br />
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And Ty is loving preschool on Thursday and Friday mornings. His teacher is also wonderful, and he just skips right into that classroom. This from the kid who screamed when I tried to leave him in the nursery until he got old enough to go in the same class as Jake. My baby's growing up. He's no longer little brother following big brother around. He's a true blue bonafide school goer who has his own friends and his own homework that he works diligently on. Such a little man, I just am so happy he's grown out of a lot of his craziness. Not that he doesn't still get into mischief now and then. I posted this on my facebook wall the other day, "<span id="profile_status"><span id="status_text">Ty cleaned the bathtub for me last night. Don't be too impressed. "Mom, I used Jake's Spiderman washcloth to clean the bathtub. I just put it in the toilet to get it wet..." Oh man, that kid. How boring would my life be without him?</span></span><br />
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Alright moving on to soccer. It's so awesome that both our boys can be on the same team this year! Jake has improved approximately 900% since last year, and is one of the best on the team, and Ty is one of the youngest kids out there, but has got himself some serious skills as well. I'll give most of the credit to Jurgi who played more hours of soccer with my boys when he lived here than he probably slept. We miss you, Jurgi! We think of you every time Jake scores a goal. Which is quite often, as you'll see (oh, and we got a new digital video recorder that is Dan's favorite toy at the moment, so kudos to him for creating this masterpiece): **OKAY, I've tried for 2 hours now to get this video to upload and can't do it. Stay tuned, I'll figure it out. No, Dan will figure it out and post it. Until now, just enjoy the pictures, courtesy of Auntie Jen who braved the rain last Saturday.**<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZp6v-w3xS0M5RmzM-4uQiDhCDcQ3ECmUUBTotH-uwobYVBZQR0WGJ-kR4MEyRo7vUP5RbpZergQ-xRfo3jBn2NGiwK91hilPr6pzujRVQXQk6R0cLJF84dY60lyuidcQd3iz-CA/s1600/44894_1658377584724_1395680291_1750204_3025421_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZp6v-w3xS0M5RmzM-4uQiDhCDcQ3ECmUUBTotH-uwobYVBZQR0WGJ-kR4MEyRo7vUP5RbpZergQ-xRfo3jBn2NGiwK91hilPr6pzujRVQXQk6R0cLJF84dY60lyuidcQd3iz-CA/s320/44894_1658377584724_1395680291_1750204_3025421_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5s2ztOfr3RWY2zjKg_7avIM3_48J2942P65sP8s8mC_WjQm2UdbVST4XyzY5q2PLo-g0QsSaxkR3AhNq1s5vw5WEnMZJbdhbHGMnb6iGiT9x6AzUefEuq1OzF4rmlik4-SRqfw/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5s2ztOfr3RWY2zjKg_7avIM3_48J2942P65sP8s8mC_WjQm2UdbVST4XyzY5q2PLo-g0QsSaxkR3AhNq1s5vw5WEnMZJbdhbHGMnb6iGiT9x6AzUefEuq1OzF4rmlik4-SRqfw/s320/untitled.bmp" width="241" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOUUyxqTLVCZULxfBt__LfPLqP75t-5daGWrFOiLZP-EXryl3__GWXBcIorfOnpFvCvcM92gl5fXXJaNbwHFGD6TezZB1ogl5V3z2jCt7nDIQu7Dnr2Xaf8mBXmV0aBUWGRT7XA/s1600/66891_1658376624700_1395680291_1750202_4277679_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOUUyxqTLVCZULxfBt__LfPLqP75t-5daGWrFOiLZP-EXryl3__GWXBcIorfOnpFvCvcM92gl5fXXJaNbwHFGD6TezZB1ogl5V3z2jCt7nDIQu7Dnr2Xaf8mBXmV0aBUWGRT7XA/s320/66891_1658376624700_1395680291_1750202_4277679_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Okay, enough of the updating? Thank you and goodnight. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Yep, I'm still not forgetting the fact that I have yet to post about our Disneyland trip. You've all probably forgotten, but that was really my plan. Now I can creep it up on you and you'll be shocked and amazed. So don't be checking every day. Just chillax. Spontaneous...that's the way I roll. </div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-88896460650793329842010-09-01T09:33:00.000-07:002010-09-01T09:33:15.065-07:00The big 3-030? Didn't we just discuss how 6 seemed old? Oh yes, that was a month ago, but still...those were the words I left you with, no?<br />
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Thirty years old. Let me just clarify that it's not me who's turning 30 today. No siree. My cradle was the one that was robbed...we'll discuss my thirtieth birthday in the muuuuch distant future. Today my household is celebrating the birth of our patriarch. Daniel John. Dan. Dad. Daddy-o. Dude. <br />
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It's true. As of today I'm married to a 30-year-old. And it's not even freaking me out. You know why? Because I made a list. Yep. A list of all the things about Dan that keep him young at heart. Yes I realize that I'm talking like he's turning 80. I really don't think 30 is old, but the list is funnier if you picture him on the verge of needing a cane and denture cream.<br />
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He's a fine wine, my husband...better with age...get it? Except for the fact that he hates wine. Cheese maybe? Doesn't some cheese taste better after it ages? Ahh, I've got it. How about aged beef? Dan will appreciate that one. Except eventually even the greatest of steaks gets rotten if you don't eat it. Oh forget it. Back to the list.<br />
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Things about Dan that make him seem young (even though he's not anymore):<br />
* He teaches my boys WWF moves as they wrestle on the living room floor<br />
* His favorite cereals are Reeses Puffs and Fruity Pebbles<br />
* He just got a Seahawks jersey and has been wearing it around the house multiple days in row<br />
* He gets a high pitched giggle when someone really makes him laugh<br />
* He still prays for snow days that will cancel school<br />
* He ate pizza for 3 days straight when the boys and I were gone last weekend<br />
* He tried to get me to tell him what his birthday presents are<br />
* He couldn't sleep the night before his fantasy football draft because he was so excited<br />
* Speaking of the draft, he wrote a trash-talking poem to read to the guys in his league before any picks were made<br />
<br />
There are tons more. But the greatest part is that there are also tons of things that he does that prove he's a mature responsible adult. Like working a good job, taking care of his family, taking out the trash, making wise decisions, and being an all around great example to our boys of what a godly man looks like. It's true. He's pretty much the best combination of young and old. But he's mine and you can't have him.<br />
<br />
Happy birthday, dude! I am proud to be your wife and I am so excited to grow old with you.<br />
<br />
And I'm also excited about the fact that you're the one who will grow older first.anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-67277608151432937472010-08-07T20:06:00.000-07:002010-08-07T22:49:34.625-07:00Jacob GaryUnbelievable. Seriously unreal to me that I have a six-year-old. Six years ago today, well not today, but on August 3rd (I know, bad blogging mother, get over it) Jacob Gary was placed in my arms and I knew life would never be the same. Six years ago. 6? Six. Five is a milestone, six is just plain old. It's like turning 21...cool milestone. 22...old. And not only is he old, he's also ginormous. Not one ounce of fat on his body (he and Ty have the same size waist), but he is as tall and skinny as a...shoot what's tall and skinny? My 19 inch baby has turned into the six-year-old equivalent of Yao Ming. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502877007883007026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi0ieoz7O8uOyk_v2ARwYd0QABdIR18nBA2vTlRhsN8HlleGQK7Up7mUfo4Twa4wrhLzmBQZCNcOYP5AUHGGhwqGI-pIf4inhRBPfDJbhXY8uWLuDyVVapFwd71tms6juNeN1gA/s320/jake+newborn.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502891655739801042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLv_RVzVOA0xvN-hhN_Eyfp1Z7FQv1R87BULNc0qB2z1mqEQEY_vwWvrEOY4SIUSlny70UoUfNmEUp384sA1Tbr4yeNMOZyS9TKnCE_y7G7shyfJ4mrdWlZ5SfUGh-86kkiKjKCA/s320/jake+toystory+wii.jpg" />And I can't for the life of me find a full-body picture of Jake in all his tall glory, so that one will have to do. For those of you who haven't seen Jake in the last 24 hours, he's already grown another 4 inches. He's 6 years old and approximately 6 feet tall. Ok, obviously I'm kidding. But I swear that when I stare at him for a few minutes I can actually see him growing.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div>Alright already. Besides the fact that I can not get over his height, I also can not get over him losing teeth. He's lost his bottom front 2 teeth, and now he's got one upper tooth that is hanging on for dear life and makes him look like he's got a snaggletooth. Wonder if spellcheck knows what a snaggletooth is. Nope. </div><br /><div>Enough about Jake's physical characteristics. Except I'll just throw in real quick that he's got me terrified about how many girls are going to be calling my house giggling in a few years time. Lord help me. </div><br /><div>My happy, laid-back little baby boy has turned in to such a sweet and tough and funny young man. There's moments where my heart actually hurts I love him so much. He was getting out of the car to go to a backyard Bible club the other day, and he jumped out, started running, then abruptly stopped all by himself and said, "OH, I forgot," and came running back to the car to kiss and hug me. "Love you, Mom." Yep. Heart squeezing. </div><br /><div>He's also quite a little missionary. There's been multiple times lately where he'll strike up a conversation with someone at the store and ask them if they know Jesus, or tell them about our church, and that he's learned the names of the books of the Old Testament by singing a song in his Sunday school class. We were on our way to the dollar store a few days ago and he announced from the back seat, "The dollar store is the best thing EVER. Oh, no wait, Jesus is the best thing ever, and THEN the dollar store." He prayed for Jurgi every night that he was here, and he also rarely forgets to include in his prayers, "and thank you for my brother and my mom and dad." </div><br /><div>As sweet and tender-hearted as he is, he's definitely all boy. He got a rapid-fire Nerf gun for his birthday and he and Dan and Ty have been running around the house for days yelling and shooting and laughing like crazy. And that's when he's not outside playing basketball or making soccer goals out of 2 shoes. His favorite show on TV (besides cartoons like Handy Manny or Arthur) is Wipe-Out, which is pretty much just laughing at people who hurt themselves. All boy. And the birthday theme this year? Batman. It's been Hot Wheels (4th birthday), Transformers (5th) and Batman. No lace doilies in the decor at one of Jake's parties. Or any party I throw...but you get the point.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 311px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502890007290253154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxoZAtnxIapst2bDksroKdInKPGTFuD3lLzLc5Ld4cqcY-88YXXNSQeYMsVIRHHZ1P8IQymzNdE7c7fUCZT_3HeJhJCt39k0FMruBKGn9FYVcmFQAD5GBB2c_9JtKhPx62zjqb6w/s320/jake+batman.jpg" /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 264px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502890001976412210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmzp2qrrZHomWiLqMzdopX6eaHhL0IKAG6tGJ3QD0dFTuOmLr9_p6eVdctjzJ8OXreJMoWtWDLzEPbPb6EEjAe2f9Y6Ws8lFThJnGylEUtJ59DyYNoIXn-y7kxegqNjSSN-bk0w/s320/cake.jpg" />Living with Jake is constant comedy. I got him some shoes a while back that were 2 sizes bigger than the ones he was wearing that I bought (too big for him) 9 months ago. I laced them up and he proceeded to go strutting around, and my heart stopped for a second. Then I said, "Dude, you look like a man." To which he quickly replied, "YOU look like a man," and we both burst into laughter. Then just tonight he was wearing a new hat that Auntie Becca gave him (Stud, with a capital S) and he had it twisted sideways. He looked in the mirror and stated, "I look like a DJ." Dan and I laughed and said, "A DJ?" And he said, "Yeah, you know those guys who go...pssshpssshpsssh" and he was moving his hand like he was spinning a record. Who needs TV with this kid around? Hysterical.<br /><br /><div>Here comes a Disneyland preview. I'm not forgetting. Avoiding...yes. Forgetting, no. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502888129934908914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvPOweLlc7gdxs5tyTSnwIwvjDf614JKMvkRL9daBIXvEgNb59LZjxtTGiGB3op9IAjKw6w-m28bwkPv6Vn8jXmuwdvLytScrGcn8uIsr3umzDD22oyqyJHb1iDiPNLklMtrpgA/s320/jake+pluto.jpg" />Jake, you are my delight. I love you more than you could ever understand, and I am so excited to watch and cheer you on as you grow into a little man. Happy birthday, baby!</div></div></div></div></div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-35459712200395096892010-08-02T21:31:00.000-07:002010-08-07T19:05:55.290-07:00Summer...part 1 of 36And now the moment you've all been waiting for...the summer update. Now I know what you're thinking. How could she possibly write a blog explaining the 4+ weeks of silence we've just experienced, when it typically takes us 4+ weeks to finish reading even one of her ridiculously long stories? Or, sentences, in this case. What would that blog post even look like? Well, it could look something like this:<br /><br />Token apology for not updating readers. Assurance the author will not ever again wait so long between posts. Confusion about where to begin the update. An aha! moment and clever segue into the first of many stories. Picture. Attempt at brief explanation under picture. Repeat until author runs out of time and or energy. Concluding remarks. Second promise of timely next post. Witty final sentence.<br /><br />Sweet. I guess I'm done. No? Allllright. But seriously, you may want to grab a drink, put a movie or 2 on for the kids, be sure you've emptied your bladder recently, do a little stretching...cause you're gonna be sitting here for a while.<br /><br />Okay, June 28th was the last day I updated you. Jurgi had only been with us for 3 days, but we knew that he was a perfect fit for our family. For the next 2 weeks, our days were full of activity. I couldn't help but throw another baby shower in the middle of it. Cause that's what I do. (We miss you already Matt and Sharon!) We had barbecues with friends, Jurgi and the boys shot approximately 8 million baskets and made 3 million goals with a soccer ball, and Jurgi toured downtown Portland where he became passionate about someday eating a bacon topped donut while looking at the line winding around the block at VooDoo Donuts (the bacon donut dream was realized before he left). <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501049976646729634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc687Jfa78DNCX1PoYUigBDGlyuejCVpwrPrK8szsgB_ekrhb_5kWGz-71ALGVNkGx4J0aEULLzoeEswv0ImCb9D0yYrE47PNtutTqLPWek9kjLl0NCQUzy85G1dVtEWZs_Mk0OQ/s320/Jurgi+basketball.jpg" />Jurgi inspired us to have a new appreciation for soccer while faithfully watching the World Cup even in the early morning hours, so we took him to a Portland Timbers Soccer game with the boys. We played tennis after I dusted off my racket and my old bones. I'm definitely not going to wait another 8 years to do that again. Jurgi went with us to a 4th of July barbecue with Dan's family and then witnessed Jake's near death fireworks experience. Dang, I guess I have to explain that one. Oh, here I'll just put a picture instead and attempt a brief explanation under it. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501047826737253170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyqQwamSiqEDhxd9EBAHNbkmkIBz15uoOAv78Q03r70mHll_OOTlIjKk092IrEu9WcvBugCQO4FFENEYhHg3DS8U92MgrPBwcH4lToR69C-t7yM9dOVavsRb2mOMrttAfYhKRLQ/s320/holey+shirt.jpg" />Sparkler + wind = shirt bursting into flames and 5 year old grabbing the chunk of flaming sparkler and obtaining 2nd degree burns on his fingers. Oh and on his chest of course. Right underneath that charred hole in the shirt in case you were wondering.<br /><br />And then we went to Disneyland. Next post. Oh crimeny, Jake's birthday is tomorrow. Next to next post. I cannot ask you to sit through the stories of my kids' first trip to Disneyland on top of all the other things I'm jabbering on about...mainly because I'm just plain refusing to write them right now because I'm getting carpal tunnel just thinking about it.<br /><br />Okay, so when we were in Disneyland getting heatstroke (but still having an insanely good time), Jurgi got to go to the Washington Family Ranch for a week at camp. He said it was an incredible time, which makes me excited because I get to take the kids there the last weekend in August. I get to be the camp nurse. For a group of First Responders. Because I'm sure they'll need me to tell them what to do in an emergency.<br /><br />Back from Disneyland and back to our last week with Jurgi. We went up to Mt. Hood to the Alpine Slides and the other adventures they have there. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501060308182924642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0GarWgj0cnVQbW5OQsLQmhyXSVW0f5cTrqs1avSbOBIxlWMg_Rh8uHDlox4C0Dm9hcZlosKa09_mksNnXb_IQlcjfkQ5bznNCoeENsH9G13s47Zypm7KTqVazeM13zaO_Ou95A/s320/collage+alpine+slides.jpg" />Mountain sliding, go-cart riding, bungee trampoline-ing, putt-putt golfing. Oh yes, and then there was the bungee jumping. Jurgi got talked into strapping himself onto a bungee cord and launching himself off a 100 foot platform. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501052565088461682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2GnmMrAsKlQKA8BYH8fFnmRk9aolFR5qJq5IVJrbb1iWwWF-PMfPrmfp6TtdHygptWR12-lQmxZlTNyMXgsopr4_UmPXPhAa52cf3ilV2rfyEAo3JJnMty-W_C2jvv9mK6v88w/s320/jurgi+bungee.jpg" />I prayed the whole time that he'd survive so his mother wouldn't have to come to the USA and kill me for letting him do it. He said it was awesome, and that he's got to do something terrifying again if he comes back next summer, so we agreed that I would go skydiving with him if he comes back. So save up your money, Jurgi! Not to pay for the skydiving. To pay me to get on that plane with you. Me and my big mouth.<br /><br />We had a final dinner with all the Basque students, where they cooked us a traditional Basque meal. I would definitely not lose weight over there.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501049960262790162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr0QAFSyBVvz9GJ2rzRR-iSX5UWMqR1FvdPhLg1d5WFZBL0aB1fcKH8RwNIG3kJVin18UxDrRE3myHh71Aaj7VDk4pf4XeGLdRajbYkiB4fsOyz1_g48ZbsmU5b0_8LXAjD278Q/s320/basque+food+email.jpg" /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501051343586268034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfOmkIZ7an0RHUf-sTwUMkumji7YBz6AcpE-W0SfMpEDTEQjkSDuQgWyycwlckKA3KJUV1UD-BzmADnFXSdZZZT409x-3OhrI4IPxUTeFnGRyc_KoLSg5rKyh_oxYDSKessce1g/s320/family+small.jpg" />The week flew by and soon it was time for Jurgi to go home. We shared our last bacon donuts, watched our last American movies together, the boys played their last games of Wii (Bowser Castle, Jurgi!!) and I packed up a tupperware of chocolate chip cookies to cram into his suitcase, gave him a photo album of his time here in the US, and we shared some hugs and said our goodbyes. Jake and Ty couldn't have loved a big brother more. Just the other day Ty said, "I wonder what Jurgi is doing right now." We miss you, Jurgi!<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 293px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501049973399641298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFFY2jdTu3y5sxCqazpETvQ_temEw-QC3aeq3ktArc0hvs9-VM5hiO98RYc0k5lac2dhZVinseexOVhxNsQaDP4Zj925M7PDJqyQeIL7kdS1_95EJ-qYpVHKqcfPFmYzWn0KtFQ/s320/jurgi+by+jake.jpg" />And now for the witty final sentence. Yep, I know I'm skipping the concluding remarks. I like to switch things up now and then. Until next time. Yikes, that should be tomorrow, because tomorrow is Jake's 6th birthday. But I really can't write about it until he has his parties. I have to have pictures after all. That gives me a good 3 days to avoid Blogger. </div><br /><div>I'll write about Disneyland sometime before 2011. That you can take to the bank. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-79798821195148681922010-07-24T17:08:00.001-07:002010-07-24T17:13:00.476-07:00Stay tunedThree weeks with Jurgi, a week at Disneyland (the boys' first time) with Dan's parents...it's a teensy bit overwhelming how much stuff I have to blog about. Jurgi leaves tomorrow, so maybe I'll have time on Monday to update you. Before we leave for Sun River with my family on Tuesday. And then for sure I'll have pix and stories from Sun River before we leave for the Oregon coast with Dan's extended family. Oh good golly I'm stressing myself out. Pictures at least are coming soon...I think. I hope.anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-77255268102286671342010-06-28T19:05:00.001-07:002010-06-28T19:12:46.587-07:00My boys<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3zweEooH6Vd0bUKq_ZUSdYZLlzPUYiVxa71428MHq1-C_mxAoEOU-oKsCJhruRzs6DcfltC6heRyc0N209Hk0WFy688_lGndW1jhfw64sKlhlfF0Kr0kV5-7MLFlUMSzu0-00g/s1600/Jurgi+and+boys.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488011167218345522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3zweEooH6Vd0bUKq_ZUSdYZLlzPUYiVxa71428MHq1-C_mxAoEOU-oKsCJhruRzs6DcfltC6heRyc0N209Hk0WFy688_lGndW1jhfw64sKlhlfF0Kr0kV5-7MLFlUMSzu0-00g/s320/Jurgi+and+boys.jpg" /></a>There they are, my three boys. They've been outside playing soccer and basketball every waking moment that they're not watching World Cup. Pretty stinking cute, aren't they? And...anybody notice that Dan already has Jurgi converted to Huskies purple?<br /><div></div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-92201249742401281422010-06-28T09:40:00.000-07:002010-06-29T15:52:24.718-07:00Foreign familyHe's here! Our son-for-a-month made it to the US of A!<br /><br />First of all, I'll apologize for not keeping the blog up to date. Before <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi</span> (pronounced <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Yurgi</span>) arrived we exchanged multiple emails with him and got to know him a little bit. Part of me wanted to just copy and paste those emails here on the blog, but if I were <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi's</span> mom, I probably wouldn't want a complete stranger posting details and pictures of my son's life all over the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span>! So I'll be careful about how much information I share about him so no one can steal his identity or do whatever it is that the crazies of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> do with people's personal details.<br /><br />So <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi</span> (if that's his real name) arrived on Friday night at a little after 9pm. Jake and Ty helped me decorate a welcome sign for him. Actually, we had to go over to my creative and artistic sisters 'crack' house (see <a href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2008/10/quote-of-day.html">old blog</a> for explanation if you're ready to call the cops on Karina) in order for her to draw some bubble letters. It took her 1 minute to do what would have taken me approximately 1 day to do on my own. I painted her bubble letters (with her paint) and that was my entire contribution to the sign making process.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487880696510395378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xfnelEVZ2nQg1Y0UbkkI1-pTULMnBs9wYYZ3xZfGYnXWPjgL8Zvm-i-91Alp335OouM7m1NmBbA2JmHDduXSVc1BncDw4OZppdQC5Fr4cmot014rU1P6frlix9PAY895yKnKAQ/s320/welcome+jurgi.jpg" /><br /><div>Anyway, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi</span> loved the sign, and gave us all hugs when he got off the plane, and gave me a kiss on each cheek and I felt very European. Or like I live in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hamptons</span> and say "fabulous" all the time. Whatever. </div><br /><div>We got home after 10pm and we were all exhausted, but <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi</span> pulled out some presents for us. During our emails back and forth, I had told him all about Jake and Ty and what they liked to do. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi</span> told us that he loves sports and plays soccer, so I told him that Jake had played on a soccer team last fall and loved it, and that Ty loved all sports but especially basketball. Well, sweeter than sweet teenage boy brought my boys presents that absolutely could not have been more perfect. For Jake: a soccer uniform, right down to the socks, from the official Basque team (in the perfect size), and for Ty: a full sized basketball (and a shirt with cartoon sheep and Basque writing on it, also the perfect size.) So in other words, my children will now pretty much lay down their lives for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jurgi</span>. He's the best surrogate big brother! Ty actually slept with the basketball that night, and Jake wore the soccer outfit the entire next day.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4CAU6yXXGsdpy0Y6HtRjuRbYxnG86fxZTJ_bCigc9bpJ1kNdK9QLkigH-t1G6KsUqK4W0mj_z3z9YCMIVWy82T_SVK3_8fppOKpjUu4azf-bOHQXegOEtL499I_02pS5L4I8Ow/s1600/Basque+soccer.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487880679992082210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4CAU6yXXGsdpy0Y6HtRjuRbYxnG86fxZTJ_bCigc9bpJ1kNdK9QLkigH-t1G6KsUqK4W0mj_z3z9YCMIVWy82T_SVK3_8fppOKpjUu4azf-bOHQXegOEtL499I_02pS5L4I8Ow/s320/Basque+soccer.jpg" /></a><br /><div>There's tons more intimate details that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> stalkers would LOVE to get their hands on, but honestly, I'm tired and I'm also about to leave to get a one hour massage from Dan's cousin (a birthday present from my fabulous in-laws. I'm definitely kissing them on the cheeks next time I see them.)</div><br /><div>That's it for now, but things really couldn't be better here around the Stump house. I'll get a good picture of him and the boys and post it soon. I promise.</div>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-34163292370339445162010-05-28T00:38:00.000-07:002010-06-30T08:24:27.955-07:00Summer time...<span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>(Disclaimer--I sent the first part of this blog out as an email to some family and close friends. If you think we're close friends and you didn't get it #1 I'm sure I thought I sent it to you, or #2 I tried to send it to you and I don't have your current email address, or #3 maybe I don't like you. Regardless, here it is. I'll let you know when I'm done plagiarizing myself and I begin writing new material.)</em></strong> </span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span>Seriously? Summer is almost here? We’ve had a few sightings of the sun here in Gresham lately, usually immediately preceded (and followed) by torrential rain. But sun or no sun, life is good here around the Stump house, and it’s about to get a whole lot better! This summer we’re anticipating lots of things, including: Dan being off work, kids frolicking in the sun, Ang sipping caramel frappucinos, Disneyland in mid-July, Alcorn family Sun River trip, Stump (Milliken) family trip to the Oregon coast, meeting our third child, a possible trip up to Seattle for a Mariners baseball game, and a lot of smokin’ good BBQ. Did I lose you for a second?<br /><br />Don’t worry, you didn’t miss any news about another pregnancy. That was just my clever intro to an amazing opportunity we have this summer! We are inviting a 17 year-old high school boy into our home for a month. He is from the Basque country (a region that sits between Spain and France on the Bay of Biscay.) His name is Jurgi and looking at his application, he’s going to fit in perfectly with our family! He will stay with us for 1 month, from June 25-July 25, and learn about American culture, practice his English, eat our food, be followed around by our kids, become fluent in fantasy football, and be loved by our family, our church, and our God.<br /><br />So we’re writing this letter because we absolutely need your prayers. Inviting a high school boy to live in our home where he will get to see all of the good, bad, and ugly is a little intimidating. But we hope that as Jurgi becomes a part of our imperfect and ordinary lives, he might be able to see a perfect and extraordinary God!<br /><br /><em><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Okay, sorry to bore all of you who read this previously. Read on for all of my exciting, original never-before-seen blog thoughts.</span></strong></em><br /><br />Sooo...yeah. We're excited about summer. And I promise to post pictures and embarrassing stories about Jurgi just as if he were my own. Just kidding, Jurgi. If you're reading this. If not, then I'm 100% serious.<br /><br />Um, what else? Jake graduates from preschool tomorrow. Whoa nelly I'm going to have a kindergartner. Yep, then pretty soon he'll graduate from high school, get married, give me lots of grandkids and have to put me in a nursing home where my dinners will consist of pureed steak and potatoes through a straw. It's right around the corner. And that's pretty much how I'm feeling about that.<br /><br />I should clarify that right now it's 12:55am and I'm writing this from the triage desk at work. Therefore if any of the "original" sentences above make any sense whatsoever, I probably don't deserve my paycheck tonight. Typically nights in the ER don't lend themselves to frivolous things like emptying your bladder or blogging. Tonight on the other hand...I actually considered praying for a major city-wide catastrophe so time will go by more quickly. But instead of wishing harm upon the citizens of Portland, I'm choosing to blog. Maybe not very well, but blogging I shall continue. It just took me 10 minutes to write and re-write that sentence. I'm getting paid for this, folks.<br /><br />Ha, just when it was about to get boring: a little amusement in my night. I have a screen at my desk that shows me various views of security cameras in our waiting room and outside the front entrance. A wildly intoxicated woman just walked by the automatic glass doors and jumped about 3 feet when they opened for her. I laughed out loud. And I'm considering asking one of our security officers how I can play the tape back so I may laugh once again.<br /><br />Alright, I'm done. Please don't stop believing that someday I'll write an entire rational post. Summer is coming. Sunshine is coming. Sleeeeeep is coming...anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-10298055404922309202010-04-28T15:39:00.000-07:002010-04-28T16:12:33.277-07:00Pictures and thoughtsIt is getting ridiculous how many weeks go by before I actually post some of the pictures that I take. Why must I always be compelled to write seven thousand words to explain them all? Not today, friends. I refuse to give in to my compulsions. Here's some great pictures with very brief explanations. And some with just a little briefer than usual explanations. Ok, some will be semi-brief to normal. Maybe normal to not-quite-long-winded. Dang it, somebody stop me.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMQ4wQb59vQ5nFJL3mandZQxaQwvpxugJW1SznPJXVjrAnLfzKSxQxQYXAleZY-Iq6xNBiobQ1rN3ZYSV9eHdes7WnG6xRIarR6zN8NzADAnhC7yG1qANyskZedNmnw7-HDw3bQ/s1600/cars.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMQ4wQb59vQ5nFJL3mandZQxaQwvpxugJW1SznPJXVjrAnLfzKSxQxQYXAleZY-Iq6xNBiobQ1rN3ZYSV9eHdes7WnG6xRIarR6zN8NzADAnhC7yG1qANyskZedNmnw7-HDw3bQ/s320/cars.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314762501567922" /></a>Jake is still pretty passionate about cars. I should have taken a video of him touching each of these Hot Wheels individually and quoting their make and model (the year isn't usually specified on the box, which is frustrating for him.) But I guess a video of him naming 97 cars might have destroyed my attempt at brevity right from the start. How'm I doing so far? Right, sorry.<br /><br />We took Ty to a Blazer game for his birthday. Ha! You see, I CAN do brief!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeW1VuxtkEMdxt4cIySyn0QhysW3ox_slWZwcvMr_0qmM6fiCbwiJsYdXZpbmbDqxq0fjmrUrZDTdmsYGUw8rokajCwKmeqbs1b2Fp53OTCh0S9X0Q5obWrgfXqIxcB-kp69WDpQ/s1600/ty+blazer+tix.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeW1VuxtkEMdxt4cIySyn0QhysW3ox_slWZwcvMr_0qmM6fiCbwiJsYdXZpbmbDqxq0fjmrUrZDTdmsYGUw8rokajCwKmeqbs1b2Fp53OTCh0S9X0Q5obWrgfXqIxcB-kp69WDpQ/s320/ty+blazer+tix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314767296810082" /></a> Ok, more pictures, more explanations. Yes I realize Ty's birthday (and therefore the Blazer game) was a month and a half ago. It's still interesting, isn't it? Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive, did he absolutely L-O-V-E being at that game. Probably one of the highlights of his life. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0HdcPRtivguiqT8fMWItdx7imr3rxEzzVK71_AE9V3ugtwM1tZ3XFcLS91wiU8QHRowUOjteBjzgpwuGVWkgsZlPcT_NsR5yONchWnxYET4JddkDbhvxcgOUvZB91QQGH-kedA/s1600/blazer+dad.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0HdcPRtivguiqT8fMWItdx7imr3rxEzzVK71_AE9V3ugtwM1tZ3XFcLS91wiU8QHRowUOjteBjzgpwuGVWkgsZlPcT_NsR5yONchWnxYET4JddkDbhvxcgOUvZB91QQGH-kedA/s320/blazer+dad.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314776385768354" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYXvkIaDUKYemLeNyaBjuxdAxA4L96qXqRBYFL5B4kf7-_hFRvCstTi8xPZH1vsW-MkLEVBXh0D4PrzGnI_rENgIczlFvnKI9bLukTFbfC6A-89olKDe1RL3coOiZPMOI9drKQw/s1600/blazer+game.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYXvkIaDUKYemLeNyaBjuxdAxA4L96qXqRBYFL5B4kf7-_hFRvCstTi8xPZH1vsW-MkLEVBXh0D4PrzGnI_rENgIczlFvnKI9bLukTFbfC6A-89olKDe1RL3coOiZPMOI9drKQw/s320/blazer+game.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465314790174454434" /></a>He was a bit overwhelmed at first, and sat on my lap for most of the game. But towards the end he started screaming like crazy when the Blazers made a shot. Every home game if the Blazers score over 100 points the whole crowd gets a ticket for a free chalupa from Taco Bell. After they hit a shot to make it 101, Ty yelled out at the top of his lungs, "CHALUPA TIME!!!" Oh, great memories.<br /><br />A few weeks ago Dan's sister Jane and our niece Rebekah were up here. I've said it before and I'll say it again. There is not a cuter little girl on the planet. Seriously, look at this cuteness:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpuHIRihyphenhyphenV_gG2smk8gQXPwqg83Ecb-DptyqTOV96lKsoTPBGGr3ryaeBSJy-hrTJaB3CHzdcSAn_KhByKR7S_Qv1jjb1d-_sQT80WSXZJOL_PK-2HgJqptsi39QmcTj2dAinug/s1600/bekah.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpuHIRihyphenhyphenV_gG2smk8gQXPwqg83Ecb-DptyqTOV96lKsoTPBGGr3ryaeBSJy-hrTJaB3CHzdcSAn_KhByKR7S_Qv1jjb1d-_sQT80WSXZJOL_PK-2HgJqptsi39QmcTj2dAinug/s320/bekah.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465320609808058930" /></a><br />The boys and I went to the zoo with Jane and Bekah, and mother-in-law Ann and other sis-in-law Becca and the kids she nannies for, Claudia and Charlie (2 of the cutest kids who are not related to me) and friend Stacy and girlies Piper and Chloe. There had to have been an easier way to say all that. BUT, I'm too tired to edit it, so there you go. Here's the kiddos minus Charlie and Chloe who were sleeping in their strollers:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8SmlFXRWGTQjPj9mwcflPnOWilMl44zTXTo35rZER1Hc_8C7M-AITj5QRz1H1Qrirc7pNAXCtuwpRtBOt8hWNjq8cA0ktNwhtTgHn_5LPWxXDbFZwo_hFyu_R2RUbG_rHJPa_6A/s1600/zoo+kids.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8SmlFXRWGTQjPj9mwcflPnOWilMl44zTXTo35rZER1Hc_8C7M-AITj5QRz1H1Qrirc7pNAXCtuwpRtBOt8hWNjq8cA0ktNwhtTgHn_5LPWxXDbFZwo_hFyu_R2RUbG_rHJPa_6A/s320/zoo+kids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465322152928987090" /></a>Piper, Ty, Jake, Bekah, and little miss Claudia. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24LNWkLlJpCN5CmWn-jnr6O6QGGgtT2R_2sSUAA4xmjP1dlAfTIaeCJv3tCARvFo_mdqsykIaziyE5CkOyBMBPRFpazLZn3FMbonDhf5MLVe8RdEvXLA2Bfbjn5hHOMPUxCyEvQ/s1600/zoo+monkey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24LNWkLlJpCN5CmWn-jnr6O6QGGgtT2R_2sSUAA4xmjP1dlAfTIaeCJv3tCARvFo_mdqsykIaziyE5CkOyBMBPRFpazLZn3FMbonDhf5MLVe8RdEvXLA2Bfbjn5hHOMPUxCyEvQ/s320/zoo+monkey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465323834692784626" /></a>Ty pretending to be a monkey. At least I think/hope that's what he's doing.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidelVFjKhuXq3wojmEIynBe7M_ynS35cHgI60u1lnwApCbRhPU1unu2ThJiMCzxwFWBQPnot4R0KyugUzDcwFrBcK35TStoRSp6gQODM7Rh3WB3YltCRt3NHqVJIkJhFIDWC3Ghg/s1600/lioness.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidelVFjKhuXq3wojmEIynBe7M_ynS35cHgI60u1lnwApCbRhPU1unu2ThJiMCzxwFWBQPnot4R0KyugUzDcwFrBcK35TStoRSp6gQODM7Rh3WB3YltCRt3NHqVJIkJhFIDWC3Ghg/s320/lioness.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465325228635782178" /></a>This lioness charged us and actually jumped up with it's huge front paws on the glass. It actually made my heart skip a beat. But mostly made me wish my camera wasn't buried in my pocket at the time.<br /><br />Enough zoo. Actually, enough blog. For now. The sun is starting to come out, and I've got places to go, people to see...laundry to move from the washer to the dryer. I know, you're jealous. I'll leave you with one more picture of precious Bek:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfZdOZzvDRJKr2cPxcmIiDFkDgQxTYAbAzJF1aCw_bGWb8y9ByNb8W6A07RqZ2QK5z4dKkXHAsKxhEDgignd-X4EriU8eYtA2TSwEaBrtckK3p8ocAttNyupV6HmZSpB6-SrUyw/s1600/bek+in+boys+clothes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfZdOZzvDRJKr2cPxcmIiDFkDgQxTYAbAzJF1aCw_bGWb8y9ByNb8W6A07RqZ2QK5z4dKkXHAsKxhEDgignd-X4EriU8eYtA2TSwEaBrtckK3p8ocAttNyupV6HmZSpB6-SrUyw/s320/bek+in+boys+clothes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465326799784338402" /></a> We left her alone for 1 minute and she found Ty's shorts and Jake's shoes and put them on all by herself. <br /><br />C'mon, who <em>doesn't</em> want to be like those Stump boys? Speaking of those Stump boys, it is WAY too quiet in this house right now...anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-44285525239961781102010-04-13T10:02:00.000-07:002010-04-13T10:26:57.796-07:00Two thingsI'll give you two guesses...who decided the couch was a blank canvas on which to display his artistic abilities:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuLD8WJC3qI-BsjEG2QsggI7QhqtAagkRWCXpONAgfHV8XAGhCaH3IeHvOeq4Ak1A0R-W_ztK8EKMmHWUqsqfxBezWUAXpqU5mHtEvtxZRIex7BrlW5iPY4iLFdN8OoGtI2YsZw/s1600/T+couch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuLD8WJC3qI-BsjEG2QsggI7QhqtAagkRWCXpONAgfHV8XAGhCaH3IeHvOeq4Ak1A0R-W_ztK8EKMmHWUqsqfxBezWUAXpqU5mHtEvtxZRIex7BrlW5iPY4iLFdN8OoGtI2YsZw/s320/T+couch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459673058316382370" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSepvZ5HXW4T6MFnAuSq-kZ8WG2YbzRmmDx8Wpnf_Rin-o93qxlj8wL3nehbfuoPNH4ER4QVMRdBBvfsm24uixrPSip61VhSSe1MPQZICAyq37cpSJe9Qxmj0cuDeig3Ce0dmNzw/s1600/Y+couch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSepvZ5HXW4T6MFnAuSq-kZ8WG2YbzRmmDx8Wpnf_Rin-o93qxlj8wL3nehbfuoPNH4ER4QVMRdBBvfsm24uixrPSip61VhSSe1MPQZICAyq37cpSJe9Qxmj0cuDeig3Ce0dmNzw/s320/Y+couch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459673066465953698" /></a><br /><br />And now this muliple choice question: Is this price tag A. a typo, or B. evidence that I am the best bargain shopper in the history of the world?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1qX17r1Bj39DnNq37_39HHeGKRAIF6hyf9YbeDX0nANSHbYelcFMFVSoPdksDvtU-TCw7-AdN5FrB6WYLwnVt0V3e6H6l2wDg5uLoWqD5Gm3gPnL24oRfvqTPxW7Quzz1ATI0Bg/s1600/Ross.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1qX17r1Bj39DnNq37_39HHeGKRAIF6hyf9YbeDX0nANSHbYelcFMFVSoPdksDvtU-TCw7-AdN5FrB6WYLwnVt0V3e6H6l2wDg5uLoWqD5Gm3gPnL24oRfvqTPxW7Quzz1ATI0Bg/s320/Ross.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459674571837223394" /></a>Yep, I wore this $1200 shirt to church on Sunday. And I'm pretty sure everybody thought I was a celebrity. <br /><br />Do you like that I'm ignoring the fact that it's been over a month since I've blogged? I promise I'll give you more of an update (and tons more pictures) soon. Or relatively soon. I swear.anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-31285724764359666312010-03-10T10:57:00.000-08:002016-02-10T10:13:11.282-08:00Tyler DanielI guess I should have known. Hindsight is 20/20, isn't that what they say? 4 years ago today, I should have known that my life was about to drastically change. Oh, I knew I was in for some change. Going from one child to 2. Changing 2 sets of diapers instead of 1. Needing to ask one child to wait as I dealt with the other. But I was about to have another boy. I knew how to have a boy. Things would go just about the same, right? <br />
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And then the monitor on my huge belly started to alarm. The nurse moved it around, then moved me around, then put an oxygen mask on my face. My heart started to pound. Tears welled up in my eyes. This baby was scaring me. Then things seemingly went back to normal, and because my epidural was working quite nicely, I sighed with relief. Soon it was time to do the "practice" push before they called my doctor in the room. I literally had barely started pushing when the nurse held her hands out and yelled, "STOP, stop, stop!" I looked up at Dan, who started laughing and made some comment about how he was going to just squirt right out across the room, and then I started laughing. The nurse quickly said, "Oh, DON'T make her laugh, seriously, he is coming out." </div>
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And thus began the flurry of activity, 800 nurses flying around the room, one standing at the foot of my bed, ready to catch a child should I dare laugh again. Then my doctor arrived, asked me to push, and 1/2 a push later I heard, "STOP." And then I heard, "okay, the cord is wrapped around his neck, I need some help here." And my heart stopped again. Don't scare me like this, child! Seconds later I heard him cry, and I saw his blue tinged little body (see his hands?) start to pink up while screaming on my chest, and I knew I was in love.</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447096401430492642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddmRCY615LjrYvL38scUs953lwG-MPY7Pa3Wf_znY2Q0qjodHyyxT4pE7Vt05to8Edsn7JxUy3GfmRCpF6-2SixgSY2DzwzrKQhReg_Ys8sXIMUWFti6oy4XOPl9iDZZ_d0lJZw/s320/hi+mommy.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />I just didn't realize then that this child would continue, sometimes daily, to scare the life out of me and then make me laugh within a minute.<br />
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My baby turns 4 today. Tyler Daniel. Ty. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Beebs</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Beebee</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Beebs</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">McTeebs</span>. The one person I know who can bring out the most emotion in me. For better or worse; I've discovered that phrase applies to more than just a marriage.<br />
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Ty can move from the most defiant child in the universe to the most loving in 2.5 seconds flat. This kid doesn't do anything halfway. He is passionate about whatever it is that he's doing. He'll go from cheering wildly while watching a basketball game on TV, to focusing intently on his latest puzzle. Precisely coloring a picture, to giving a serious beating to his competitor on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Wii</span> boxing. He's either yelling at the top of his lungs, or whispering a secret in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">someone's</span> ear. He softly pets the dog, then tries to push poor Felix down the stairs.<br />
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I mentioned <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Wii</span>. Right now, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Wii</span> is Ty's reason for getting up in the morning. His reason for breathing. His little competitive spirit both excites me and terrifies me. Team sports are just around the corner for him. Hopefully we can channel that drive to win in a positive way. It's a little ridiculous to say that I think <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Wii</span> has really helped him with that. Or, used to. See, I used to be able to beat him. I would let him win sometimes, and then frequently I'd win so that he would learn that even when you don't win you can still have fun playing. Unfortunately I can't always win anymore. Yes, a 4 year old is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">consistently</span> beating me. And I'm not half bad. Just saying.<br />
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There is no way I could love my baby more. The times I've wanted to pull my hair out may just about equal the times I've laughed, but when he sits on my lap, kisses me, hugs me, or grins at me with that dimpled left cheek, I can't imagine living life without him. And not just the good parts. The whole Ty package. The high highs and the low lows. Ty wouldn't be Ty without the indescribable messes he creates, the mismatched shorts and tank tops on 30 degree days, the Dramamine dependence, the flashes of rage when I tell him the fruit snacks are gone, the manipulative "I'm too tired to go to bed," statements, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">insistence</span> on the red car cart behind all the blue ones at Fred Meyer, the fists of fury. He wouldn't be him if I didn't want to ring his neck on a daily basis. And he wouldn't be him if my heart didn't squeeze when he cuddles up next to me and tells me he loves me.<br />
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I'm so excited to see what God has in store for this kid. Whatever Ty does, he will do it well. I just pray that whatever he does won't involve the risk of bodily harm on a daily basis. At least it's already been confirmed multiple times (like <a href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/08/californ-i.html">here </a>and <a href="http://dastump.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-have-winner.html">here </a>and many other times I've been too traumatized to blog about) that he's got a guardian angel who's quick on his toes.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447094705032032034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DPeD7GgLjRGvTKSc2B3TIVtATI41qlhWLGYocCzVrvxAZkFE5-U3-2lDtrwthR8lEdfF4BDwtj7M_R1AcbB8YxDf_H_lc0NiQoFJdI2Yc65RuJ6cJ7cszWewn1ktIvd3s73P8Q/s320/Ty+bathtub.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 296px;" /> Happy, happy birthday Tyler Daniel! You make my heart full.anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-5712016960821613702010-02-27T09:29:00.000-08:002010-02-27T10:37:30.635-08:00We have a loser...and no, it's not me, though I realize it's been almost 2 months since I've updated the blog. Think of me what you will, but I'm NOT a loser. Jake is. A tooth-loser that is. Sweet mother of mercy when did I get old enough to have a child who loses teeth?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtA_87gB73mvThyP6pZQchhlVm_bKzYSmLwcWuM5Q9FzMnjam0WTvU6Wv6KHJauM8U4TMl5JWM2d8-UCoGY3fkiX5096yvvmHwz2kCazIgltdK8oVnvbSuTrkpS9jOw6apYFXlw/s1600-h/jake+toothless.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442992237802997442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtA_87gB73mvThyP6pZQchhlVm_bKzYSmLwcWuM5Q9FzMnjam0WTvU6Wv6KHJauM8U4TMl5JWM2d8-UCoGY3fkiX5096yvvmHwz2kCazIgltdK8oVnvbSuTrkpS9jOw6apYFXlw/s320/jake+toothless.jpg" /></a><br />Let's see, what else? January and February were good, thanks for asking. We've had plenty of busy days and lots on our plates and on our minds, thus the lack of blogging activity. Dan hasn't been coaching since mid-January, so he's home at 3:30 most days. The boys and I are loving it! But we've, mostly I'VE, been filling up our copious amounts of "free time" with all sorts of activities. Side-note: when I use words like copious, does it: a)make you think I'm superbly intelligent, b)irritate you, or c)cause you to think I'm ridiculous for being proud of the fact that I threw out the word copious in the midst of a totally normal sentence? Personally I go for option d): think about freshman honors English and how when I actually use those vocab words I learned so long ago, I feel like a real adult. You'll be excited to know that I've just decided to use more vocab words in the paragraphs to follow. Isn't this going to be fun?<br /><br />Alright, sorry. I'll move on to more germane subjects. Though you know how when I get going I tend to be quite loquacious. No one can accuse me of being taciturn. I may be too garrulous in my posts, but at least they're not phlegmatic.<br /><br />Okay, seriously now. Jake lost a tooth. He is officially, "the man" at preschool. His teacher told me that 2 of the girls follow him around everywhere, and that half the class wants to marry him. Lord help me on the day that girls start calling my house to talk to my boys.<br /><br />Ty is as passionate about life as ever. He's currently obsessed with Wii Sports. My facebook status the other day was, "my 3 1/2 year old is getting seriously good at Wii. And trash talking. While he was legitimately beating me at baseball today, he shouted, 'You're going DOWN, baby!'" Cracks me up, that kid. And my Mr. Beebs is not going to be 3 1/2 much longer. His birthday is rapidly approaching. So are my gray hairs.<br /><br />And us? Well, Dan and I have had approximately 65 people over for dinner in the past month. I've been working here and there. Last weekend I had a girls slumber party for our church youth group, which was AWESOME! We did all sorts of girly things like homemade facials and make-overs. I'm not used to so much girl related business in this house full of testosterone. Thanks, ladies, I hope you had half as much fun as I did! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpKkA8pyKqTP4HSeB-v1c3X9aoe85pNbmxFLv4-_y36yb99jGOVBMm6iptbImuqXwrGay8Cv337NuADjipHgN9uAsePd5uQ7U940YInBt6nobWm_uaMQLMqvS23XODz7hW2e76oQ/s1600-h/girls+night.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442992244648465586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpKkA8pyKqTP4HSeB-v1c3X9aoe85pNbmxFLv4-_y36yb99jGOVBMm6iptbImuqXwrGay8Cv337NuADjipHgN9uAsePd5uQ7U940YInBt6nobWm_uaMQLMqvS23XODz7hW2e76oQ/s320/girls+night.jpg" /></a><br />We're still hosting a small group Bible study at our house every Tuesday night, which has been amazing. Super fun, but super challenging too. Love those people. Have I told you that our church is the best? Cause it is. Gresham Bible Church. Sunday's at 10:30. Go check out the <a href="http://greshambible.org/">website</a>. And stop by sometime. We have free snacks and coffee every week. Jesus did say to "feed my sheep," right? Seriously though, church is a huge part of our lives, and we've been so blessed by the relationships we've made at GBC. And by the encouragement and conviction we get from our pastor Vergil, who can really preach it.<br /><br />Oh, what else? We've got a lot more things scheduled in the next few weeks. A baby shower (shocker, I know), Ty's birthday parties (3 of them. For real.), hostessing more dinners and people. Being a good wife and a good parent and a good friend. You know. The busy and boring, the marvelous and mundane, but the always very rewarding same ole, same ole.<br /><br />That may be it, friends. At least you know I'm going to post again on Ty's birthday. Shoot, I'd better start writing that pretty soon. Like maybe now.anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-31331093997498177602010-01-08T14:57:00.000-08:002010-01-08T23:09:19.185-08:00Back to life, back to reality<div align="center"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiwMXBSJvf8MRCRK37tZASXlz_sTZF0YI1rBrjw2CNKoQbiS7-T4CRLpOvE55Veaagux_K9YH8pQ4m9DV0Rw40Q38EspxxyjaI9tKl3VisMdAZGFmwpL-l-LdQmfy0-kpm_7evw/s1600-h/jt+beach.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424588124249406786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiwMXBSJvf8MRCRK37tZASXlz_sTZF0YI1rBrjw2CNKoQbiS7-T4CRLpOvE55Veaagux_K9YH8pQ4m9DV0Rw40Q38EspxxyjaI9tKl3VisMdAZGFmwpL-l-LdQmfy0-kpm_7evw/s320/jt+beach.jpg" /></a> Dang you, Maui, Hawaii. Dang your lack of responsibilities. Dang your carefree laziness. Dang your insistence on leisure. Dang your redefinition of productivity. Dang your blissful do-as-you-wish-when-you-wish-it-...ness. You've made me relax into a puddle of unconstrained slackericity. Slackerocity? Even now you're forcing me to make up words for my lack of motivation to do anything that doesn't involve laying in the sun. Well, my tan has faded, so I can no longer pretend I'm still in Maui when I look in the mirror. It's officially time to get back into real life. The daily grind. Same ol' same ol'.<br /><br /></div><div align="left">I knew once I blogged about it, the bubble would burst. So I apologize to the 2 people who might have actually believed I'd be typing furiously right after we stepped off the plane a week and a half ago. For the rest of you who are just now checking this in the month of February, you know me too well. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">I am, of course, exaggerating how little I did in Hawaii, and how devastated I was to come home. Actually, I'll be honest. I'm not really exaggerating how little I did, but the part about dreading being home is completely false. As much as I loved soaking in the vitamin D, I really did miss home and was happy to come back to it. But you didn't blog surf over here to read about Oregon. And I didn't sit down 26 interrupted times to type about Gresham. So here's a brief (laugh...out loud please) synopsis of our Christmas vacation: </div><div align="left"><br />Really and truly, I did nothing. And I brought home proof. #1 is my tan that has since washed away in the rain. #2 is some extra body fat. My dad, who is very fit and healthy, said he gained 8 pounds in Hawaii. I may have gained a few (dozen) more than that. Give or take. I'm pretty sure I drank 8 pounds of passion-orange-guava juice alone. Oh how I miss thee, POG. You and your 10% fruit juice, 90% high fructose corn syrup/deliciousness. I also had a few pounds of macadamia nut pancakes. Mmmmmm. I'm salivating. Course that's maybe because I've only eaten a hot dog today that I bought while shopping at Target because I forgot to have lunch and was on the verge of passing out. Sorry, little Gresham interjection. Where was I? Maui. Oh yes, food. Cheeseburger in Paradise. Teryaki steak, carrot cake muffins, Hula pie, cashew chicken stir fry, BBQ steak and twice baked potatoes, pecan monkey bread, tropical smoothies. Oh and did I mention POG and mac pancakes? </div><div align="left"><br />Those delicious delights - the calories burned from jumping into the pool when I got too hot from laying out = enough of a fat layer to keep me warm for the rest of an Oregon winter...or 5. Now while I was winning grand prize in the eating and lounging around competition, my boys were burning calories like it was going out of style. They swam for hours. Not even a joke. Water wings are probably the best invention since POG. And you know how I feel about POG. Ty was leaping head first into the deep end of the pool. The kid couldn't love the water more. Unless maybe he had gills.<br />Jake got used to a mask and snorkel in the pool and then he went out into the ocean with Dan and my dad and a pair of kid flippers, and made his mama proud. He snorkeled like a pro, out for an hour with the fishies and even a pack of turtles. A pod of turtles? A herd? Doesn't matter, Dan says they were surrounded by 10 turtles and Jake was loving every second of it. Good gracious, that little man in his Hawaiian print swim trunks, his Quicksilver rashguard shirt and a snorkel coming out of his mouth. Dude with a capital D.</div><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424607472272077746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTs7qdF1e9lNzJUVdlqQrL561_tzEab6TgQWq2pb1M7vVR9VUiU8wFKI-nAdLkIVriJZiPUtC9zVrH0CosDDysjMZv3eIisOL6BXGc14k2QLNs2jVUsLLgQc7PnFE8q9KVzgGRng/s320/jake+snorkeling.jpg" />And how amazing is this picture. Face to face with a sea turtle. I bet most 5 year olds don't have a pic like this one.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424576233311169858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidSrDz8vJCsQWTxI0eN8Ohc-xhjWBaZrjCfpV7eGvpdOdMCOBWdonqLIe2PJQvaYxaDOVD-DPdLrMc6Sy6Z_p7wLhxo18U4b5kFvxkfEkqenPRpj4bSltRhhj57XsW8d_uU3VtSQ/s320/jake+vs+turtle.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424614020783487250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFN0ClHogU1i3F2xe-2zgBJFJfwmO5HNMiGiqWUB6YWnJqpBLLTUPhy7ELE9OirlROfY0z4RHWtlnmo9-Wm2YCH-2FLhNTnnkn5p6_TB7GpZy0QF2Iwx7fMzdcm675Ewrb6AfIQ/s320/Hawaii+2009.5.jpg" />I just realized I'm going to have to do a gazillion picture collages just to show you the tip of the iceberg. Dang you again, Maui. So much time and effort into your blog. I'm just going to insert a video here because I've already drug this out too long. Oh no, I have so much more to go. This was the boys first time flying, and I knew they'd love it. For the first 5 minutes or so. It was long, but they both did so well. Only one mishap when Ty dumped out my bag to look for a toy, and ended up dumping out the goldfish crackers all over the floor as well. Here's Ty and his first take-off. You can also hear Jake, who was sitting right in front of us with my dad, in the background.<br /><br /><p align="center"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxfFXR8gwYiX1XPTJdW9gEttzqiH-CenYZM_jHbDr9w-LDb9stxWQ1KUpN-F-as8tPDLP2iK-6ho8M' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p align="left">And here's some pictures. Make up your own captions, would'ya? I'm really worded out all of a sudden.<br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424595245291965890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjteyHWFozksV9gz4rTBa9Ut1pWIVtzd7yI-ZuPBGCIdB9yTC8ySO3E7ilYzM6-C6Jhqlc4bMcX0cfNAXGrHrlGD_wC6YF0ykN8IVVuoLYD-Pebf8mlhUaVa1hT4jC-u3fzsghrlg/s320/Hawaii+2009.1.jpg" /> <p align="left">Did I say I was worded out? I'm a disgrace to the Alcorn blood. Looking through the pictures, including some I've borrowed from my photographically gifted father, I realized I forgot to tell you one major thing. We went whale watching. And ooooooh did we watch some whales. One came just a few feet from our boat and Dan caught the end of it on a bumpy video, but this ginormous beast poked his head out of the water and proceeded to show us his entire back and slap his tail at the end of his production. Quite the show off. It was pretty impressive. The boys loved the whole experience. And I loved the fact that I remembered Ty's Dramamine. I even slipped some to Jake. And Dan. The whole morning was vomit free and fabulous. It was an experience we will surely never forget. </p><p align="left"><br /><br /></p><p align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwqTGUCHiKImH1qOpfRlvrRhrkPhnSFgPCno1Xl1qs0IUThpogezocXlatTpovvn7sRqOmS3a_VfA4' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424596357117046178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rCHIoSFicSkY-UbH1VKODyxMsQ-krWXpnZ3KZ0hnH7xCzj0DJ6_5V2qi3_2WYhHaCafWxArIvIRRQhkSkuq2kIaAtLWUp5gGZoCibi0n2d1baW9lpqlTs97to4J5CHDfJv44ow/s320/Hawaii+2009.2.jpg" /> <p align="left">I have to admit that it felt very weird on Christmas day. I've never been away from home on Christmas, and of course never in a place that was 80+ degrees. But the kids sure didn't miss cuddling up by the fire and sipping hot chocolate. They had a blast jumping into the pool and dodging waves on the beach.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy3rx4K_Qec28JMV4lcNbgtU60pZZFlHfc9khpEU0D1FP3Ay1BKMhA-GEdhkf_QtorOXE6XEPEmZHU' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />And here are just some more pictures. It's past ridiculous how much time I've spent on this blog. I should have broken it up. YIKES.<br /></p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424576914421219010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_mTJJVMGunra5cytjI0ucxtaFMjEwn7BAO4A4hzK_CieFw4-VM69JRsY9y4RINz3yEFqpSxqEqxoGbIpFIRXWnSlWh5rjn9DNrRHSbsGFFei5AtMUo8wbMOE8MxjdFAyNpjZNw/s320/Ty+underwater.jpg" />This is Ty, looking through a plastic cut out on a floaty toy. It was taken by my dad with an underwater camera when he was...under the water. Love it.<br /></p><p>And here's more random goodness. Including a few of me, just so you know I was really there. I knew you were wondering. One of these pics includes Jake's new BFF, Dillon. An 11 year old who was a real sweetheart to Jake and his undying devotion. There was hardly a minute that went by without a mention of the famous Dillon and his cool goggles and awesome skateboard. Dillon, you will be missed.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424607124423404306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJaJKoZs1HY6afIQbD0xDAydfqDeaPUZd1xrJJPf_iEck1hDTbRzc-OJRwkb_rYKj53tx67SbYlA_0TJDOiPNG8NWPUHTfQ743fLnGsdFcHpmwrlbU8wFhm2Nb12R81xs790hlw/s320/Hawaii+2009.3.jpg" /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424611466254743634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4J-HFWetzHD8eeuFZSKfAeP_lHRTWqbLxF_MaKLZkhWsHhLrzL_j_fw5KfNaEJ3N-P2L05hTWBAgT9SeqORY-ojYOCIS_7FBS95viLt3hqb2zdoYBE5vWJs7XREF-eUqg_57iw/s320/Hawaii+2009.4.jpg" /><br /><br /><p>And Maui, you too will be missed. But life goes on here in Gresham. I'm not going to tell you about it for quite a long time, of course. If you read through this whole thing (and watched the videos) all in one sitting...you're probably either really trying to avoid doing something important, or you're my mother-in-law. Love you, Ann! </p><p>My word count on this blog alone should satisfy the rest of you readers for a few weeks. More like months. I'm going to bed. </p>anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-87369105570467964402009-12-17T06:13:00.000-08:002009-12-17T06:13:00.700-08:00Mele Kalikimaka to allSorry I didn't get to update you before we left. That just means you'll REALLY get a blog-full when we return. Until then, Mele Kalikimaka, friends. Warmest Christmas wishes...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs3S26nYiaANxDNywFGwmicwZEyvjaOkjL4yrxY6D3Q8KZ28SCJURz1819YQv-nwNk9qlNo7MKDskTznSY9GTK3jcIc0klXugu5IsqDTWF6guXulT6-z2kgv2hmr66oN4uMEBiOw/s1600-h/Hawaii1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs3S26nYiaANxDNywFGwmicwZEyvjaOkjL4yrxY6D3Q8KZ28SCJURz1819YQv-nwNk9qlNo7MKDskTznSY9GTK3jcIc0klXugu5IsqDTWF6guXulT6-z2kgv2hmr66oN4uMEBiOw/s320/Hawaii1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416079485380965570" /></a>...get it? In all seriousness, the Stump family wishes everyone a truly special time with family and friends this season as you celebrate the birth of our Savior. Happy birthday Jesus!anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35991569.post-68666285148505624502009-12-02T10:25:00.000-08:002009-12-02T10:36:50.093-08:00The month that was NovemberJust a warning: this will not be the best blog post you've ever read. I don't think you'll laugh til you cry, or be moved to tears in any way, but at least you'll get a little update, right? Maybe I'll even edit this post later so it's more interesting...oh forget it, read on. <br /><br />A few quotes I don't want to forget:<br /><br />Quick background on this one. After Jake's soccer practice a long time ago the boys were complaining about being hungry. They hadn't eaten a big dinner, so I stopped at Burger King and became Mom of the Year when I bought them 2 "burger shots" to share. You've seen those annoying commercials, haven't you? "Oooh, look at those cute little burgers!" I said quick background, didn't I. Ha! Anyway, at the grocery store before Thanksgiving they have those really tiny pumpkins you can use for decoration in the produce section. Jake pointed at them and practically yelled, "Mom, look at those cute little pumpkins...they're like pumpkin shots!"<br /><br />And since we're talking about grocery store quotes, and produce departments...when Ty looked at a huge pile of yams he stated, "Ew, Mama, those look like slugs." Indeed.<br /><br />Thanksgiving was awesome. I don't even want to think about how many carbohydrates I shoved into my stomach. It wouldn't have been so bad if I'd stopped at one turkey dinner. I had 3. Not 3 helpings, 3 different dinners. Alcorn's at noon, Stumps at 4:30, and another full meal at around 2 in the morning. That was at work, I'm not that much of a food addict that I'd get out of bed in the middle of the night to feast again. 3 delicious dinners. Lucky? Sure. Now tipping the scales? Definitely. Perfect, right before Hawaii. <br /><br />Oooh, does anybody not know that my parents are taking our whole family to Hawaii for Christmas? Aloooooha. That's why one of the Christmas songs on my playlist is Mele Kalikimaka. Just so you know that song will be the only one playing on my blog from December 17-28. So if you need your Bing Crosby Christmas fix, I'm your girl. And no, my parents are not looking to adopt any more children before December 17th, sorry. <br /><br />Anyway, back to the quotes. Both the boys have had the most ginormous appetites lately. Just a small picture of what's to come, I'm sure. Jake was eating pancakes the other morning, and halfway through his third (large) one, he groaned and said, "Whoa Mom, it's like Man vs. Food."<br /><br />Two nights ago we celebrated my mom's birthday. We had a great time over at my sister's house, eating dinner and the famous chocolate log cake that's her fave, and hanging out as a family. Later on my mom was opening presents and Jake, Ty, and cousin Matt were surrounding her, telling her what each present was. A few presents were wrapped by Matt (5 years old) and filled with little treasures he wanted to pass on. The first one she opened contained a small cut out of the state of Tennessee. Jake quickly announced, "well, that's not much of a present." My sons, always oozing with sensitivity.<br /><br />Okay, moving away from quotable quotes now. Of course the month of November wouldn't have been complete without throwing another baby shower. This time I had help from my friend Emily, God bless her. We had a great time showering one of my BFF's Natalie and chatting and laughing. There is always tons of laughter when you're near Natalie, she and her hubby are a tag team duo of comedic genius. Love them. Here's yet another diaper cake for Natalie and baby boy (who is going to show his sweet little face any day now!) I'm thinking about setting up a website to sell my diaper cakes. I could feed my family for months with the amount of money those things go for online. They are not that difficult my friends. If I, craft-dud extraordinaire, can do it...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3bwlUAXSF1i7WwMlWl4F9hyphenhypheniGK8zanZYHPW_g6e5VO7wXK02ssIzi8eVG5zFVR2OikwbhH8EBNiWfdq1hR9R2KYpVj8o19SfJ7F9iC32yUMgVcmzG9Pa17gezCna3jdgBfeG_A/s1600-h/Natalie+diaper+cake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3bwlUAXSF1i7WwMlWl4F9hyphenhypheniGK8zanZYHPW_g6e5VO7wXK02ssIzi8eVG5zFVR2OikwbhH8EBNiWfdq1hR9R2KYpVj8o19SfJ7F9iC32yUMgVcmzG9Pa17gezCna3jdgBfeG_A/s320/Natalie+diaper+cake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410705421897230626" /></a> <br />By the way, I am not even remotely serious about the website, so don't go Googling "diaper cakes by Ang" anytime soon. Or ever.<br /><br />I promise I'll blog about Hawaii before June. Maybe I'll even sneak in one more before we leave. That's a big fat maybe.anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06759466285520816637noreply@blogger.com2